


Somnum Exterreri

by PrinceWinter



Category: Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: But enough Persona 4 to be in the tag, Dark Hour (Persona 3), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Improper Use of Psychology, In some ways at least, Insomnia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lots of OC content but mostly canon characters, Monsters, Mostly Persona 5, Multi, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Non-Royal, Original Palace (Persona Series), POV Alternating, Persona 5 Spoilers, Platonic/Familial Relationships, Post-Game, Shadow Operatives, Shadows (Persona Series), Slow Burn, Suggestive Themes, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, physical corruption, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceWinter/pseuds/PrinceWinter
Summary: Despite all of the talk about the insomnia keeping a large portion of Shibuya from getting a proper rest, nobody seems to like to talk about why. After all, it’s a lot easier to just wave a hand and go ‘oh, I’m just not sleeping well’ than it is to open up about the real reason.Akira knows, though. He knows it’s because of the nightmares. After all, he’s been having the same one almost every night. Over and over again he relives the same fear - a gunshot firing off, a cold steel wall, the pained last words of a dying man…The one person Akira could never save.(Around three years after the fateful battle against a controlling god, it seems as though no one is able to sleep.)[No Royal spoilers]
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 22
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another fic. I'm just not responsible.
> 
> Anyways, I haven't fully played through Royal yet, hence why this technically isn't a Royal-universe fic. However, when it comes to details revealed about certain characters through Royal (looking at you, pancake boy, and your fancy new confidant link) that information is likely to be included in this fic. Still, no plot spoilers, no Kasumi + Maruki, and the third semester didn't happen.

LéBlanc had been busier than usual lately – though considering the ‘usual’ wasn’t much to speak of, that was not exactly the most difficult record to beat.

Not that Akira was complaining. After all, a surge in business made him feel a bit better about being the café’s only employee. It gave him a bit of confidence, self-assurance that he wasn’t simply draining Sojiro’s savings by being employed there. He’d been assured time and time again that he could hire six Akiras and still afford it, but Akira himself wasn’t entirely sure about that.

The biggest influx of customers was in the morning, right after the café had just opened. Tired, sluggish patrons would shuffle through the door and fumble through orders of coffee and whatever else they needed to wake up in the morning. When he had the time to make small talk, all of them reported the same thing: they just hadn’t slept well. It seemed like no one was.

“I’m telling you,” an old man had told him over his coffee, his voice a gruff rasp, “all this shit on the news about accidents and crimes is driving people nuts. No wonder nobody can rest.”

He nodded along, as one does with customers, but he didn’t believe that explanation. After all, he didn’t notice a solid quarter of Shibuya losing sleep when the news was filled with mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks that spread like an airborne disease. Sure, some people likely lost some peace over those incidents, but it was nothing so widespread.

But it wasn’t like Akira had any better answers himself. Maybe it was seasonal stress, louder noise from traffic, something in the air – hell, maybe the conspiracy theorists that ranted on about harmful cell phone signals had a point after all. He’d jokingly suggested that one evening, which had prompted Futaba to throw one of her snacks at his head.

Were it three years ago, Akira could have pictured himself gathering all of his friends together to discuss the bouts of insomnia. They’d be theorizing about whether this phenomena was related to the Metaverse, or if there were anything the Phantom Thieves could do about it.

But those days were gone. Their connection to the other world had been severed, and his old friends slowly moved on with their lives.

Which wasn’t to say that the former thieves were no longer close. On the contrary, they always made time in their new, busy schedules to spend time with one another as often as possible. A few months prior, in fact, they had all gotten back together in LéBlanc to celebrate Futaba’s graduation from high school. Watching the youngest of their little group finally step into adulthood was a day filled with a lot of emotions, much to Futaba’s chagrin. Still, times like that made Akira feel secure that he had made friends for life. He owed them a lot – in some cases, he owed them his life – and he had nothing but well-wishes for them as they all took new paths.

They were all still friends, it was just that they weren’t otherworldly vigilantes anymore. Akira had shot one god in the face, and he figured that was enough for one lifetime. Even if he missed the power that once hummed at his fingertips, he was perfectly content settling into a normal life.

-

Whether Akira was subject to the insomnia phenomenon or not, he found himself awoken late into the night by the sound of his phone ringing. It had to have been around three in the morning, and the buzzing of his phone felt like a power tool being driven into his ear over the quiet of his apartment.

Morgana groaned and stirred from his spot at Akira’s side, opening one bright blue eye to glare at the source of the noise. _“Seriously?”_ he grumbled, before flattening his ears and burying his face in his paws.

Akira groggily reached to his nightstand, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he picked up his phone. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the bright screen, but once he was able to see, he grimaced as he realized it was a blocked number. “Spam caller,” he muttered, before rejecting the call and turning his phone off.

He fell into sleep again easily, catching a few dreamless, peaceful hours before his phone awoke him again at around seven in the morning. This was only slightly less irritating, as he was supposed to be awake around this time anyways, but he still felt the little impulse to throw his phone at a wall. Especially when it turned out to be a blocked number again.

If it’s so important,” Morgana stretched out his front paws, cutting himself off briefly with a short yawn, “they shouldn’t block their number. That’s just gonna make you more likely to hang up.”

Akira shrugged and let out a sigh, resigning himself to being awake. “Might be a determined prank caller,” he suggested. “Or maybe two different people entirely, and I’m just unlucky.” He stood from his bed, stretching until his back gave a satisfying _‘pop’_ (which prompted Morgana to visibly cringe). He shuffled over to his closet, opening it up to grab clothes for the day. “Hey,” he called over his shoulder to the cat, “don’t look, I’m about to be naked.”

“Gross,” Morgana replied, sticking out his tongue in disgust. “I’m out of here.” Deftly, he slipped out of the open window and went off to… do whatever he does during the day.

No longer subjected to the scrutiny of a staring cat, Akira finished getting ready for the day. He’d recently graduated from living in an attic to finding a nearby apartment, only a ten minute walk from LéBlanc. The apartment itself was pitifully small, with only one room (not counting the bathroom, which was barely even a closet), a sad little excuse for a ‘kitchen’, and a small bed. Still, it was enough space for him and Morgana, in a familiar neighborhood, and most importantly; it was dirt cheap.

…too cheap, in fact. Akira often wondered if someone died there or something. People always say that animals can see ghosts, and Morgana had yet to say anything, so he was probably fine. That is, unless Morgana was working _with_ the ghosts, and had betrayed their years of friendship in order to sell him out to the souls of the damned.

Akira thinks too much when bored.

Morgana found him again on his way to work, hopping up onto his shoulder in order to avoid stepping in the murky puddles from last night’s rain. Akira was grateful that he was a fairly small cat, otherwise he’d surely have some gnarly scars on his shoulders from his regular passenger.

(Instead, he only has scars from… other things.)

“What were you up to?” Akira reached up with a hand to scratch Morgana on the chin, which he leaned into with a satisfied purr.

“Oh, just people-watching, the usual.” He flicked an ear as he spoke. “Watching people stumble around all tired is kind of funny.”

Akira let out a short, quiet laugh. “That’s such a horrible thing to say, Morgana. You’re horrible. Truly without any empathy for others.

Morgana swatted him with a paw. “Oh please, I saw someone walk into a wall, and then a minute later, I saw the same person trip right over a box of watermelons. You can’t tell me that isn’t funny!”

They found themselves at the door of LéBlanc, and Akira pulled out his keys to open the door. “You awful little cat. Laughing at the suffering of poor, sleepless humans. So cruel.”

As he stepped inside, whatever retort Morgana was preparing was cut off when Akira’s phone rang once more. “Again?” The cat wondered aloud. “Is it the same guy?”

To check, Akira pulled out his phone as he set the bag down behind the counter. He quickly rejected the call the moment he saw that it was, sure enough, another ‘blocked number’. “Seems like it. Hopefully they get bored soon, otherwise I’ll have to send Futaba after them with her cache of ‘cursed images’.”

Morgana hopped onto one of the stools, cringing visibly. “That’s a fate worse than death. I don’t know where she finds those things, but one time she showed me—”

“We don’t need to relive whatever horrors she put you through.” Akira slipped his head through the top of his apron, tying the rest behind his waist. “Now, get ready for work, or I’ll fire you.

Letting out an amused little _‘mrrow’_ sound, Morgana raised a paw in a mock salute gesture. “Aye-aye, captain!” He hopped down from the stool, trotting over to the cat bed, where he would patiently await the incoming customers.

(A string of jokes about Morgana being a freeloader had given Akira the idea of having him be the ‘greeter’ for the café, sitting at the doorway and charming customers as they came in. Essentially, his job was to get attention and table scraps from patrons. Akira liked his job well enough, but compared to Morgana, he felt a bit like life had cheated him.)

The morning rush lasted longer than usual, taking until three in the afternoon until Leblanc was empty. Akira was hit with two rushes back to back without any break, as the morning rush had bled into the lunch rush. Every day, he understood a little more why Sojiro preferred the café as slow as possible (and also why Akira was usually the only one working now that they had an actual influx of customers). Thankfully, the customers were bearable enough, but dealing with half-awake people was frustrating even when they were polite.

During that time, he’d ignored his phone going off in his pocket no less than five times, after which he was starting to get tempted to smash it. The only thing stopping him was his dignity preventing him from causing a scene in front of customers, but now that the café was empty once more, he was becoming more and more tempted…

Luckily, this is when Futaba walked in, seeking coffee to fuel whatever programming or gaming exploits would fill her day today.

“Futaba,” he began as she set up her laptop at the counter, sipping a mocha coffee (which Akira had prepared right before she walked in, because he had a weird sixth sense for when she was about to show up) as she got to work. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow as he continued. “If I, hypothetically, destroyed all of the technology I owned, burned all of my identification papers, and shredded all my credit cards to go _truly_ off-the-grid, would you support me?”

“Obviously,” she replied with a snort, rolling her eyes. “But don’t expect me to come with you. I’d die without internet connection. What brought this up, anyways?”

“A particularly determined spam caller woke us up last night.” Morgana hopped up onto the stool beside her. “And they just keep calling over and over…”

Akira nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Can you work your magic and get them off my back? I’m this close to snapping, Futaba. _This close._ ” He held his index finger and thumb together.

“But your fingers are touching,” Morgana pointed out.

_“Exactly.”_

She snickered at his plight, before adjusting her glasses smugly. “Well duh, of course I could get this guy off your back. That’s easy stuff! One of these days, you’ve got to bring me an _actual challenge._ Or else I’ll just fall asleep at my keyboard.” Despite being sure she’s done that on many occasions, Akira handed his phone over without pointing that out.

“Wait,” he paused, just before his fingers left the phone. “Am I getting in the way of schoolwork?”

Futaba rolled her eyes and swiped the phone. “Online classes, dork. I’ve just got a couple of psychology assignments left. That professor’s scary ‘n all, but I can blast that work in one sitting – so I’ll do that later!”

Akira suddenly feels like a bad influence.

“Aren’t you a little curious, though?” Morgana asked, tilting his head to the side. “Who’s so determined to get in touch with us that they’ll call over and over again?”

“If they want to get in touch with me,” Akira crossed his arms, “they can call me like a normal person. Until then, I’m not answering. With my luck, if I did, they’d somehow steal my identity through the phone.”

Futaba snorted, not bothering to actually correct him on all the ways that was Not How That Worked. “Alright, killjoy,” she fished a wire out of her bag, plugging his phone into her computer, “just give me a second here. I think I have a program already set up that should help.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Yeah, Sojiro kept being hounded by church people, trying to convert him.” She grinned, obviously recalling what she did to the offending callers. Akira was curious, but ultimately decided he didn’t want to know. “Yup, just like I thought, I’ve got what I need right here. One moment please while I work my _magic!”_

Akira leaned on the counter while she worked. “Don’t bug it again,” he added, and no amount of puppy-dog eyes from her would get him to budge on that front. One of these days he wanted to try installing a dating app, and even though Futaba was an adult now, that was nothing she needed to see.

“Fine, fine, let’s take a look at your call history.” She scrolled through a window on her screen. “Well, sure enough, it’s all the same guy. Not sure who yet, but I know it’s one person just by looking.”

“Figured.”

She cracked her knuckles and flashed a toothy grin. “So let’s unmask this prankster, and—”

_Ring ring ring._

For a brief moment, Akira wondered if she had somehow changed his ringtone in the minute she’d had his phone hooked up for. Quickly, though, he realized that the source of the ringing was Futaba’s own phone, not his.

She pulled out the phone and her eyes widened. “Oh, holy shit.”

“Language,” Morgana scolded, before hopping up onto the counter to get a better look. Akira leaned over as well, trying to get a better look at the screen – and by extension, who was calling.

A blocked number, sure enough. “So,” she began, “this is either the freakiest coincidence ever, or…” There was a moment of tense silence as it continued to ring. Before Akira could find the words to tell her not to _dare_ answer, she impulsively pressed the ‘answer’ button.

_“There we go,_ ” an unfamiliar voice responded. Judging by how the caller sounded, they seemed to be around the same age as Futaba and Akira, though their voice was rather gender neutral. Still, their tone was formal and polite, but not betraying much emotion. _“I was wondering when you would finally respond to my calls, Kurusu Akira.”_

“Futaba,” Akira hissed, “hang that up!”

She covered the speaker (which likely wouldn’t make a difference) and shook her head. “We should figure out who this is!” She handed over the phone. “So don’t you _dare_ hang up!”

He was tempted to do so anyways, but then Futaba would never let him hear the end of it. After ensuring the phone was on speaker, he cleared his throat and responded. “Who are you? Why have you been calling me so much?”

_“Apologies about that.”_ The voice on the end of the line was still mostly monotone, so Akira couldn’t be sure about the sincerity of the apology. _“I simply wanted to be discreet.”_

Before Akira could reply, Futaba leaned in and interrupted him. “How did you know that calling my phone would reach him?” Her tone was accusatory, but Akira could see an interested sparkle in her eye. More than she wanted to call the person out, she wanted to know how they’d pulled off that trick.

_“It was no technological marvel. I simply know the two of you are close, and I figured if I could reach you, he would be likely nearby.”_ Futaba deflated, realizing it wasn’t some sleek hacker trick, but the caller continued unaware. _“You are at work right now, yes? Tell me, is the café empty besides the two of you?”_

He figured Morgana didn’t count, so it _was_ empty, but… “Why do you want to know?”

_“I have a question to ask you, and I imagine you don’t want others to hear.”_ Something about the way the caller spoke sent an uncomfortable feeling up Akira’s spine.

“…go on,” he replied, hesitation clear in his voice.

_“ I am a psychologist researching the collective subconscious. I imagine the former leader of the Phantom Thieves would be a wonderful source to consult.”_

-

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Akira had eventually choked out a request that the mystery caller get back to him _tomorrow,_ and they could talk properly then. Thankfully, they accepted those terms without much issue and hung up the phone.

Futaba, Morgana, and Akira simply looked at each other for a moment. “So,” Akira began, clearing his throat, “we have a day to figure this out.”

Really, they needed to convene with the others, as this was now decidedly the business of everyone who was once a phantom thief, but there was an issue with that. Mainly, that they no longer had the abundance of free time adolescence afforded them.

Haru was swamped with both university work and work as the heiress of Okumura foods. Of course she could always lean on Makoto, her girlfriend, but she was _also_ busy with her own schooling. Yusuke wasn’t completely unreachable, but he had begun attending art school on the other side of Tokyo, meaning he’d have quite the commute to make it to LéBlanc. Ann was busy furthering her modeling career with a photoshoot in New Zealand, and while she was due home within the week, Akira had only managed to score them a _day_ to work with.

But, well, Ryuji probably wasn’t busy.

It felt wrong to not tell the others, but Akira knew it was for the best. They were the types of people to drop everything, regardless of importance, if Akira really needed them. He didn’t want to impose on their busy lives by burdening them with this – at least, not yet. When the situation could be better understood, and he could judge whether he even _needed_ the counsel of the other thieves, then he could consider contacting them.

Hence why Ryuji, the only available ex-thief, hurtled through the café door no more than twenty minutes later, out of breath and in a flustered panic. “Holy shit!” He hurried over, slamming his hands down on the counter. “Someone’s turning us in!? Do we gotta fake your death again!?”

Akira sighed, wishing Ryuji had listened to more than a minute of his phone call before racing over. “No, Ryuji.

“Oh.”

Futaba tapped away at her computer, using whatever data she could gather from Akira’s phone to track down the mystery caller. She barely spared Ryuji a glance as she spoke to him, too absorbed in her current project. “Someone knows who we are,” she began, “or, at least who Akira is. Someone who’s pretty smart, as well…”

Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Do we know anything about who it is?”

Futaba still didn’t look up. “Working on it.”

“They said they’re a psychologist, working to study the ‘collective subconscious.” Akira noticed the confused look on Ryuji’s face and had the mercy to continue. “That’s essentially a generic way to describe the Metaverse.”

Ryuji frowned. “But, hey, didn’t we get rid of the Metaverse? Like, when you shot god in the face. Thought that solved the problem.”

Tapping his fingers on the table, Akira couldn’t help but grimace uncertainly. “Did we, though? We solved the problem with Mementos, but I don’t know if something like the Metaverse really ‘goes away’. We just lost access to it.”

“Seriously, man? Then what’d we fight all that shit in the city for?” He groaned, putting a hand to his forehead and lurching his head back exasperatedly. “I mean, sure, I had fun here and there running around the Metaverse, beating up demons, but ain’t we done with all that?”

“Well, we don’t know for sure yet. Maybe we still are.” Akira shrugged. “Either way, there’s someone who knows who I am, and also potentially about the Metaverse. Sure, I was technically cleared of the charges, but I’m not going to chance the legal system again if information gets out.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Futaba letting out a groan of frustration. “Ugh, this guy’s good. All I can get is that they’re here in Shibuya, and that’s _practically nothing!”_

Akira knew this probably wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease her a little. “What was that you said earlier about not having enough ‘challenges’?” He raised an eyebrow.

Despite his teasing intent, the words seemed to ignite something within Futaba. With a renewed competitive spirit, she grinned widely. “You’re _right!_ Finally, a worthy opponent – our battle will be legendary!” With that, it was like her fingers were set ablaze, and she typed away with increased fervor.

“C’mon, don’t burn your brains out totally.” Ryuji let out a breath, pocketing his hands. “Ain’t you in university now?”

“I’ll do my work later! I wanna figure this out more than I’m scared of my professor!” She cackled like a little goblin as she continued to type away.

Morgana winced. “I think we’re being bad influences on her.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Futaba let out a hyena’s laugh. “There we go, _there we go,_ just one little push…!” With a flourish, she hit the enter key.

Akira peered over her shoulder at the screen, curiously eyeing lines of code as they flew through a console window. It was like deciphering a foreign language to him, but he definitely got the impression that _something_ was being accomplished. Eventually, the program seemed to spit out results, though Akira still couldn’t understand what they meant.

Whatever it was, it made Futaba gasp.

“What?!” Ryuji shouldered his way closer, pushing Akira aside. “What’d you find!?”

“Um,” the wind disappeared from her sails, and she suddenly looked rather nervous, “I think we’ve been found out by my psychology professor.”

-

Despite all of the talk about the insomnia keeping a large portion of Shibuya from getting a proper rest, nobody seems to like to talk about why. After all, it’s a lot easier to just wave a hand and go ‘oh, I’m just not sleeping well’ than it is to open up about the real reason.

Akira knows, though. He knows it’s because of the nightmares. After all, he’s been having the same one almost every night. Over and over again he relives the same fear, of a gunshot firing off, a cold steel wall, the pained last words of a dying man…

The one person Akira could never save.


	2. Chapter 2

The most powerful weapon one could wield against an enemy was _information._ If you knew your opponent well enough, in many ways you’ve already beaten them. Digging up dirt on someone before facing off with them was a classic trick. With an expert hacker on their side, Akira felt like they had that part in the bag.

Until it turned out that they were chasing someone who was practically a ghost.

Through Futaba’s search (and confirming it through her syllabus) they managed to get a full name – _Robin Nakamura_. Then, through an incredibly bare-bones profile (there wasn’t even a photo of the guy!) on her school’s website they found that he was only twenty-four years old, despite being an apparently accomplished scholar and professor. That was around where the trail started to freeze over.

From there, they could speculate a little. His distinctly non-Japanese first name, as well as seemingly preferring a western name order seemed to suggest that he was of a mixed heritage, and likely spent time outside of Japan. Still, they realized, what good did that information really do?

Then, being a professor at twenty-four likely meant that he was some kind of prodigy as a child. One would think that someone who was flying so high would have more information about them online – awards, articles, _something_ – and yet, there was nothing of value. His name was mentioned here and there, yes, but he came up in contexts that were impersonal, often completely passing. It seemed that his research was a much more popular topic than the man himself.

Futaba could offer at least a bit of testimony on what he was like from her other classes, but not much. He was intimidating, apparently, and didn’t fall for any of the classic student tricks in order to get more time on assignments. He was no hacker, but according to her, he was tech-savvy enough to thwart some sort of trick she’d tried with him. Likely due to her bruised pride, she refused to elaborate more on what that scheme actually was.

Ryuji, meanwhile, tried to be useful by scouring social media. All _he_ could find were posts from students at Futaba’s school complaining about them, and even those were in the single-digits in quantity. Through some sort of IP-address tracing, Futaba found a social media profile from a year or so back that _could_ be his, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. The profile itself likely wouldn’t have been useful anyways, as it contained no pictures or personal posts, instead just being filled with ramblings about psychology and philosophy. Akira didn’t doubt that the profile _was_ his, considering the subject matter.

Eventually, they called in Mishima for backup. His programming skills hardly held a candle to Futaba’s, but he was competent enough to be a good extra set of hands. Akira was grateful that even after all this time, his old friend was still willing to help them out.

He entered the café with his laptop, sitting down at the counter. “Robin… Nakamura, you said? I can’t say I know who that is, but I’m sure I’ve heard the name before…”

“Well, Nakamura’s a pretty common surname, right?” Ryuji offered unhelpfully, and Akira nearly elbowed him for it.

Mishima laughed it off casually, to his credit. “Well, yeah, but the combination’s not nearly as common. You said he was a professor? Huh…” He glanced at Futaba, then back at his computer. “I’ve got some friends in the same program she’s in – after all, we’re all computer geeks, just in different schools. I’ll ask if anyone’s taken a class with him on the server.”

Futaba nodded sagely. “Ah yes, though I may be the superior hacker, I must concede that you’ve gotten me beat on the ‘having friends who might know stuff’ front,” she said in an overdramatic tone, snickering a little. Quickly, the two got to work.

Ryuji, Akira, and Morgana were unfortunately left feeling pretty useless. Akira knew enough about computers to not completely fry one while using it, but he was no help when it came to the more in-depth technical stuff. All he could do was stare at his phone with a pit of dread in his stomach.

He was sure that Futaba could’ve dug up Robin’s phone number if he asked her to; after all, blocking your number wasn’t completely secure. If they completely hit a dead end, maybe he would ask her then, just to keep the investigation flowing, but for now he didn’t want to distract her or Mishima.

A few hours passed mostly uneventfully, with very little progress made. Ryuji abruptly stood up from the booth he’d been seated at. “Alright, pause! I can practically smell the smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Whaaaaat?” Futaba whined. “Wait wait wait – I think I’m on to something!” Akira wasn’t convinced she was actually making progress, and more just stubbornly refused to take a break. Mishima was in a similar position, grimacing at the thought of stopping.

“Hell no, put a pin in it. We’re ordering dinner before the only two useful people in this search pass out.” Ryuji pulled out his phone, clearly not about to budge. “Is soba alright with you guys?”

Mishima fidgeted a bit with his fingers, a little nervous. “Well, I’m not gonna say no to food, but…”

Akira decided to back Ryuji up. “Really,” he assured them, “you guys should just take a short break. It’s been a few hours, and we’re not going to get anywhere with this if you guys burn out.”

Futaba looked like she was about to argue her point further, but instead she relented, letting out an indignant groan. “Fiiiiiine, but you’re paying for my soba! Consider it a tax for all the hard work I’m doing for you.”

“As if you don’t enjoy this sort of thing.” Morgana hopped up on the counter, giving her a smug look.

“Shut it, Mona.”

Mishima rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I don’t mind paying for my own. I’d hate to put you guys out…”

Ryuji shrugged. “Hey, if you want to pay, I’m not gonna fight that – but this place is pretty cheap.” He pulled out his phone, ordering five bowls of soba. Morgana let out a pleased _‘mrrow’_ upon realizing he’d been included as well.

Once Ryuji had finished, Akira turned to Futaba and Mishima. “While we’re waiting on that, you two want to fill us in on what you’ve got so far?”

Futaba deflated in her seat, pulling her knees up to her chest and pouting. “Err… not much. This guy must live under a rock or something. I keep trying to trace his internet presence, to, y’know, tie various bits of information together, but it’s hard. His IP address keeps changing.” Sigh. “Someone’s finally smart enough to use a VPN, but at what cost…?”

Mishima looked similarly defeated. “I couldn’t find much either. A guy I know had him as a professor last semester but didn’t have much to say. It’s just that he’s never taught an in-person class as far as he knows. He never even saw the guy on campus, despite going to his office to get something related to an assignment.” He grimaced. “He said the office looked like nobody’s ever been in it. Other professors were literally storing stuff on his desk.”

“Hm…” Morgana thought about that, tilting his head and flicking an ear. “Maybe he’s some kind of shut-in, then? A lot of smart people can be eccentric, just like Futaba was.”

To her credit, Futaba didn’t take any offense to that. “Well, from one former shut-in, I’d say I wouldn’t be surprised. Still weird that he has almost no digital footprint – what does he do all day if he’s not online?”

“I dunno, maybe he just reads books ‘n shit all day.” Ryuji offered a shrug. “Since he’s such a big-brain sort guy that he’s a professor at twenty-something.”

Akira sighed, lowering his head to the table. “Of course the one guy we need information on is, by all accounts, someone who lives under an actual, literal rock.”

“I’m sure he has some kind of online presence,” Mishima insisted, glancing back at his computer screen. “I mean, he’s not much older than us, apparently doesn’t get out much, and is good enough with computers to deflect Futaba.” She gives a tiny whine at being reminded of her defeat, but he continues. “It’s probably just all under pseudonyms or just made-up usernames. If he’s using a VPN, we wouldn’t have much of anything to tie all of the unrelated profiles and aliases together.”

“Maybe he writes fanfiction under a really dumb username, like _XxXdarkdragonXxX_ …” Futaba suggested, still pouting a little.

The conversation devolved into more and more absurd theories after that, with each person offering their own ridiculousness. Ryuji suggested something about him being ‘some kinda internet cult leader’, which earned him a rolled-up napkin to the forehead. Mishima wondered aloud (and Akira couldn’t tell how serious he was) if maybe Robin was one of those celebrities that was only famous under their ‘alter ego’, and he has to hide his real self so no one made the connection.

In order to get a reaction out of the group, Akira suggested that maybe he was a camboy and didn’t want his students to find his videos. This suggestion got him the horrified reactions he was hoping for, but also a half-empty water bottle to the face. Still worth it.

Before long, there was a knock on the café’s front door. As repentance for his crimes, Akira stood up to get it. Even with the doors closed he could smell the allure of soba, reminding him of how hungry he was. Opening the door, he prepared for a simple transaction with no complications, but then –

“Yo, Akagi!” Ryuji hopped up from his seat, grinning widely. “I didn’t know you were working tonight, man! I should’a given you some dumb ‘delivery instructions’ or something if I knew.”

Akira glanced back at the delivery guy, wondering if it was someone he and Ryuji knew. Unfortunately, the man was completely unfamiliar. He was tall with broad shoulders and an athletic, muscular build. He had a pretty stern face, with dark red hair pushed back by a bandana.

He rolled his eyes at Ryuji’s jokes. “And I would’ve been sure to season your bowl with extra motor oil, since you like it so much.” His voice was on the deeper side, but still sounded like that of a young man’s. He seemed to be around the same age as himself and Ryuji, if not a few years older.

“You know the noodle guy, Ryuji?” Akira asked.

‘Akagi’ seemed to take a bit of offense at being called just the ‘noodle guy’, but Ryuji spoke over any protests he might have had. “Yeah, the noodle place is right next door to the shop I’ve been working at. I go there all the time on my lunch breaks.”

“And you always track soot and grease through the door. You’re lucky my old man likes you for some reason.” Akagi held out the wrapped delivery of food. “Is someone gonna take this, or is it mine now?”

“Oh, sorry!” Mishima hopped up, grabbing the noodles. “Thank you, er, Akagi-san?”

“Akagi Jin,” he introduced himself gruffly.

“You should hang out with us for a bit, man. You’re always working when I stop by.” Ryuji grinned, seemingly forgetting that the group was working on something important – and decidedly _private_ – before the noodle interruption happened.

Thankfully, Akagi shook his head. “And I’m working now, dude. You guys aren’t the only people in the city ordering soba.”

“Damn.”

With that, Akira paid him – much to Mishima’s protests, but how often do they all get to hang out, even with the weird circumstances? It was worth treating them all – and Akagi was on his way. As to not risk getting the noodle broth on the computers, they all took up residence at one of the booths, pulling extra chairs over to accommodate everyone.

Everyone dug into their bowls happily. Well, except Morgana, who shot a glare at Ryuji. “Hey, why’s my bowl so small compared to everyone else’s?”

“You’re a cat, dude. Your stomach’s not as big as ours.”

Morgana didn’t have a rebuttal for that, and so he simply made angry, uncomfortable eye contact with Ryuji as he slowly slurped up a noodle. Ryuji looked like he’d just been threatened in the strangest way possible – and to be fair, Akira was pretty sure he was.

The meal was shared in peace with idle, friendly chatter. Robin came up in passing, but thankfully it seemed that the group was taking a proper break from worrying about the strange, elusive psychologist. Even with the stressful situation, it was kind of fun. It brought Akira back to the days of the Phantom Thieves, taking on impossible odds with the help of his closest friends.

Well, it _was_ fun, at least, until his phone rang. The phone broke the bad news to him that it was a blocked number.

The entire table held their breaths as Akira answered the phone. “…hello?”

_“Hello, Kurusu Akira.”_ It was Robin again, he could tell immediately by the voice. _“I don’t like to go back on my word, but I’ve decided to change our plans.”_

“Change… your plans?” Akira felt a knot forming in his stomach.

_“I won’t be calling you tomorrow. Instead, I’d like us to meet face-to-face._ ” Akira’s jaw dropped, but Robin continued before he could form a reply. _“I’ll give you my address, and you can come over at… let’s say around three in the afternoon. I don’t believe I have any classes then.”_

Akira finally managed to choke out a reply. “W-Why the sudden change? I’m a stranger, you know. A stranger you know some unfortunate secrets about.”

Robin was quiet on the other end for a few moments. _“Oh, I simply changed my mind,”_ he spoke casually, _“besides, I know you won’t harm me.”_

“Pretty trusting,” Futaba muttered, before getting _shushed_ by Morgana.

After a moment’s pause, Robin sighed on the other end, which was the most emotion Akira had heard from him so far. _“I have no intention of ‘turning you in’, if that’s what’s on your mind. I’m a researcher, not some vigilante.”_

“Not like me,” Akira replied, unable to think before letting sarcasm drip from his tongue.

Robin paused again. _“No, not like you at all. Still, I hope you’ll accept my invitation.”_

Akira swallowed. “I… I will.”

_“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow.”_ Another pause. _“Come alone, please. I prefer one-on-one conversation.”_

With that, Robin relayed his address – an apartment in a fairly high-end building around a twenty-minute train ride from Yongen-Jaya – and Ryuji jumped at the chance to make himself helpful by writing it down. Akira cringed at his scratchy handwriting, but figured it’d be enough for him to read.

Then, just like that, the elusive Robin Nakamura hung up, leaving the entire group stunned.

“You’re not, like, seriously going to go, right…?” Futaba asked, her voice small. “This – this is some serial killer stuff.”

Akira shrugged. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?”

A blanket of unease settled on the others, but Akira figured they shouldn’t be surprised. After all, when had he ever been the type to make wise decisions?

-

The next day, Ryuji forced his way to tag along, though he had to stay outside of the building. “Just one text, man, even a single letter,” he insisted before Akira entered, holding on to his friend’s sleeve. “If anything gets weird, do that, and I’ll be up there in a second.”

Akira hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He hoped that it’d be a brief meeting, he can dodge most of the questions, and then Robin would lose interest. Of course, he knew that was unlikely, but the type of person Akira was wouldn’t allow him to back out now. An old friend had once described him as a self-destructive fool, a bundle of live wires that just couldn’t help but go for a swim, and Akira knew that was apt. Self-preservation wasn’t one of his strong suits; to the point where he often wondered if something in his brain had been put together wrong, with the animal neurons that focus only on keeping oneself alive having been misplaced when assembling him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

That was another thing that scared him about meeting Robin; the idea of someone looking right through him and _knowing_ him. Sure, a psychologist wasn’t a mind reader, but he still never felt quite comfortable under the gaze of someone trying to read for meaning in his every word or action. He’d tried therapy many times, knowing that his content life was just a cover for unresolved problems, but so far he’d never been able to get comfortable with someone watching – _knowing_ him.

He was buzzed in, and as the elevator ascended with him in it, he couldn’t tell if it was the motion or his nerves that made his stomach plummet. He knew so little about Robin, despite everyone’s efforts the night before. It was like walking into an ambush, or into a den of vipers, or—

_Or walking into the interrogation room._

He approached Robin’s door and a part of him quietly hoped that somehow it just wouldn’t open, nothing would happen, and he could go home. And yet, the door still opened. The door opened, and for the first time, Akira laid eyes on Robin Nakamura.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected the man to look like in person, but this was not quite it.

Robin was nearly a head shorter than Akira, with a lithe, thin frame and straight hair colored a dark blue. His complexion was pale, but Akira got the impression that his natural skin tone would have been a light tan if only he’d gotten more sunlight. His outfit was formal and classy, with a dress jacket over a dull-red sweater. Square glasses rested on his nose, covering eyes that seemed to be violet in color.

And yet, despite him not being as imposing in person, it was those eyes that still intimidated Akira. Eyes that bore holes right through him. Robin had no discernible expression on his face, simply gazing at him evenly with those piercing, _knowing_ eyes.

“Come in,” he greeted, his voice just as neutral as it was on the phone. He turned and walked into the apartment, leaving Akira with little choice but to follow.

Robin’s apartment was incredibly nice, with modern, light grey furniture and minimalistic décor. However, it also had a bit of disorganization to it. A coffee table was stacked with books and papers, his desk seemed rather cluttered, and some of the books on a nearby shelf seemed to be hastily put away. It gave it a lived-in feel, which served to ease Akira’s nerves only slightly.

_‘I thought professors weren’t paid that well,’_ he mused internally, looking around, _‘maybe Robin makes more off of his research than his job…’_  
  
Robin moved the books and papers off of the coffee table, sitting on the couch and gesturing for Akira to sit on the chair facing him. Unsure of what else to do, he complied, once again feeling pulled apart by Robin’s gaze.

“You’re intimidated by me,” he observed bluntly. “Interesting.”

Akira tensed, before quickly trying to cover up his reaction. _‘He’ll see right through me if I let my emotions show too much.’_ “It’s not that,” he replied, “it’s just nerves. I haven’t… thought about the Phantom Thief stuff in a long time.”

Robin nodded. “Fair enough. I’m sure you’re curious about how I found out, yes?”

Akira knew from the start there was no point in denying Robin’s accusations. All he could do was avoid giving him too much more information and hope he was being honest about not turning Akira in. “…yeah. You could say that. All of that was kept pretty tightly under wraps.”

“Not tightly enough,” Robin observed in a cold voice, forcing Akira to suppress a shiver. “You were technically cleared of the charges of being a Phantom Thief, but I knew that wasn’t because you were innocent.” He grabbed some of his papers from the pile and started reading through them as casually as one would read the morning paper. “Tell me, Kurusu-san, how much do you know about the subject of _Cognitive Pscience?_ ”

Dread pooled in Akira’s stomach. “…nothing at all.”

“Odd, considering one of the finest researchers of the subject was the mother of one of your closest friends.” Robin catches him in the lie easily, like a spider ensnaring a meek little housefly. “Who is also one of my students.”

Akira had nothing to say.

“Isshiki Wakaba paved the way for the study of the collective subconscious, it is a shame her life ended so prematurely.” Robin continued, not glancing up from his papers. “I do not claim to have her wisdom, but I am working to pick up the pieces of her research. In some part, I have you to thank for that – if it were not for you dismantling that conspiracy surrounding Shido Masayoshi, I’d surely have been the next corpse found bleeding tar.”

_‘He knows everything, doesn’t he?’_ “Why did you bring me here?” Akira blurted without thinking. Robin fixed him with an even, neutral stare.

“I know much about the cognitive world, perhaps more than you in many ways. However, I have never been there myself. I simply want to compare notes with you. Is that wrong?” Robin’s voice was completely neutral still, as if he was feigning innocence.

And yet. And _yet,_ Akira could tell that this was just some power play to him. “…then just ask your questions, please. Make this quick for the both of us.”

“First,” Robin set down the papers, “I just want to ensure that you won’t be hiding anything from me. It would be greatly frustrating if any progress we made on this topic was stunted by your reluctance to share the full truth with me.” He leaned forward somewhat, propping his elbows on his lap. “I was not lying when I said I had no intention to harm you. I want to know this information for the same reasons any scientist would – for the pursuit of progress. I have no desire to see you in prison, even if you were to walk out right now.”

Akira still felt uneasy. “Then what’s the point of… _ensuring_ that I won’t hide anything? Wouldn’t that sort of thing usually involve... some kind of leverage?”

This entire time, Akira found himself quietly wishing that Robin would emote just a little bit, that just a flash of emotion would cross his face… but now, he took that wish back tenfold. Robin gazed at him with the usual even, unwavering stare, as an unsettling smile crossed his lips.

“I believe my first question will make that clear.” His voice sent a chill down Akira’s spine. “Kurusu-san, what do you know about the disappearance of Akechi Goro?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, you've met both of the original characters that will be featuring heavily in this story! I know that OCs can be... divisive, as most readers prefer reading about the characters they know instead of new ones. However, I'll be putting a lot of time and care into ensuring that Robin and Jin are fleshed out and interesting, as well as giving the spotlight to the canon characters as well. This is primarily a story about Akira, but Robin and Jin are main characters as well, and so it's only fair for me to tell you all that you'll be seeing a lot of them.
> 
> Anyways, I hope this chapter was enjoyable. As always, let me know what you think in the comments, be it a compliment or criticism. I'm always eager to know what you all think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is largely going to be from Akira's perspective, but writing Pale Moon has made me realize how much fun alternating POVs are, so we're gonna see some POVs from other characters here and there! Besides, with a cast that's pretty spread out, it makes telling the story a lot easier. After all, Akira can only be in one place at a time, while there might be things happening all over the place - and seeing plot events firsthand is way more fun than having other characters just tell Akira about it later.

Once upon a time, Nijima Makoto was somehow even more of a workaholic than she was today. She would bury herself in her work and her studies, and only take breaks when she physically _had_ to. For a time, she thought she was happy like this; she thought that this was the way to live. She had always been the type to keep busy, even when she was young, and so this life seemed to suit her.

And then she met one Okumura Haru, during the most turmoil-filled times of her life, and began finding herself _wanting_ to pry herself away from her studies and her work as a Phantom Thief in order to spend time with her. She realized over time how _good_ it felt to allow herself to be unproductive, to take regular leisure time away from responsibilities, to simply _spend time_ with someone she liked.

Falling in love with her was the natural progression of things, she felt. It had been a few months after the fateful battle at the end of the year, not long after they had bid a temporary farewell to Akira, when Makoto began to debate over whether it would be _right_ to tell Haru how she felt. Even if it was alright to show her feelings, _how_ would she go about it? Haru seemed so unattainable, like something too beautiful to be touched by a common person. She knew it was silly to think of her that way – Haru herself probably would’ve been embarrassed to know that’s what Makoto thought – but she couldn’t help it.

Just as she was starting to steel herself for a confession (as well as possible rejection), Haru had walked up to her and asked her on a date. It was just as simple as that. For such a shy and soft-spoken girl, Haru could be surprisingly bold at times.

They took things slow at first, since a transition from friendship to relationship could be delicate, but things went far more smoothly than Makoto expected. Conflicts with Haru were rare, and those few occurrences were easy to handle in a calm and civil manner. The two of them decided to split the cost for an apartment that was close to both of their universities and move in together. Makoto had been nervous that maybe _this_ would be the step that breaks them, somehow, but in the end it’d all turned out fine.

Makoto and Haru both were swamped with work, the latter especially due to the conflict within her family’s business, but being around each other reminded them to take regular breaks. After all, if they didn’t preserve free time where they could find it, how would they make time for each other?

She loved to bring Haru on dates, whether it be to quiet cafés, walks in the park, visits to local attractions, or any other cliché idea she could think of. Makoto knew well that she was bringing Haru to the cheesiest, most over-done date sites in the world, but thankfully Haru loved cheesy displays of romance. Makoto had bought her a giant chocolate heart for Valentine’s not long after they started dating, as she had panicked and started worrying if a small one would come off as insulting, and Haru had just found it to be the cutest thing in the world.

But Makoto’s favorite dates were the ones spent at their apartment, simply existing quietly and contently with one another. Simply being around Haru made her feel more comfortable and secure, and that was a feeling worth a million chocolate hearts or café dates.

(Though, even with the security she felt with Haru, Makoto still kept having these strange, unsettling dreams.)

It had been one of those nights-in when she’d received that knock on the door. She and Haru hadn’t ordered any takeout, nor were they waiting on any deliveries (besides, mail was usually delivered to the apartment lobby, not directly to their doors) so neither of them had any idea what the knock could be about.

“It’s probably someone at the wrong door,” Haru guessed, standing from the couch and going to open up. “I’ll answer them.”

Makoto bit her lip. “Be careful; check through the peephole first, if they seem suspicious—”

Haru flashed a calm smile over her shoulder at Makoto. “I know, don’t worry.”

(Makoto always worried, about everything, always.)

“It’s a woman,” Haru noted after peering into the peephole. With that, she opened the door. “Hello there, miss, did you need something?” Makoto stood, approaching the door as well, feeling uncertainly gnaw in her gut.

The woman behind the door was tall and lean, seemingly around the same age as Sae. Dark red hair fell down her shoulders onto an incredibly sleek and expensive-looking suit. “Okumura Haru and Nijima Makoto, yes?”

Barely stifling a flinch, Makoto nodded hesitantly, moving to position herself protectively behind Haru. “…who are you?”

“Kirijo Mitsuru,” the woman replied with a dip of her head, “leader of an organization known as the _Shadow Operatives._ I’d like to speak with you both about the events of two years ago, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Shadow Operatives?” Makoto swore that she’d heard the name somewhere before, and the term ‘shadow’ as well as the reference to the era of the Phantom Thieves connected a few wires in her brain. She shared an uncertain glance with Haru, before stepping aside. “…come on in.”

“Oh, um,” Haru hurried towards the kitchenette, “should I prepare some tea?”

Kirijo strode confidently into the apartment, and spared Haru a nod. “It’s not necessary, but would be appreciated.”

“So, you’re here to ask us some things, right?” Makoto tried to straighten her posture a little in an attempt to seem less nervous. “Do you mind answering a few of my questions first? I just want to understand what’s going on, and why you’re here.”

Nodding, Kirijo agreed. “I see no problem with that. I’m guessing you’re curious about my intentions and my organization, yes?”

Makoto pulled out a chair for herself, Haru, and Kirijo at the table, hoping that would diffuse some of the tension. “That would be a good place to start.”

Kirijo took a seat before continuing. “You may have heard my name at some point in your life.” When Makoto nodded, she continued. “The Shadow Operatives are an elite team backed by the Kirijo Group and lead by myself in order to investigate incidents beyond what many would believe to be possible.”

Makoto tensed. _‘Does she know?’_ “I see… it would make sense, then, why you’re interested in the events of two years ago. Many considered the Phantom Thieves to be doing the impossible.”

Haru approached the table, pouring green tea into three cups. Kirijo dipped her head with a quiet _‘thank you’_ before addressing Makoto once more. “Precisely.” She took a delicate sip of the tea, testing its temperature. “Now,” she set the cup back down, “the existence of the Shadow Operatives is fairly secretive, so you may be wondering why I’ve been so open about telling you all this.”

Makoto bit her tongue and didn't reply, but then Haru spoke instead. “You know, don’t you? About us?”

Kirijo smirked. “Sharp. I’ll admit I do not know everything.” She tapped her long nails on the kitchen table for a moment as she thought. “We’re not sure whether you two were actually affiliated with the Phantom Thieves, or were simply made aware of the existence of Personas and Shadows through other means.”

Though the reveal shouldn’t have surprised her, Makoto found herself taking a soft, sharp inhale upon hearing the word ‘Persona’ coming out of Kirijo’s lips. “…you know about the other world too, then?”

She nodded. “The collective subconscious has manifested itself in many ways throughout the years, and it seems this _‘Metaverse’_ has been the most consistent so far. Yet, somehow, we were scarcely aware of it until recently.” Kirijo paused again, before fixing Makoto with a sharp gaze. “Tell me, are the two of you Persona-users?”

Makoto winced, but found no reason – nor the means – to deny it. “…we are.” Beside her, Haru nodded as well, before placing a hand gently over hers in a supportive gesture. “We both awakened to our powers inside of the Metaverse two years ago.”

Kirijo nodded. “And you discovered these powers naturally?”

Haru tilted her head in confusion. “…’naturally’? What do you mean by that?”

There was a moment of tense silence as Kirijo hesitated. “The Kirijo Group had studied the existence of Personas and Shadows for many years, since I was incredibly young.” She wrapped her fingers delicately around the cup but did not take a sip. “It is… possible to artificially give one the power of Persona, though the costs of doing so are heavy.”

Makoto shook her head. “That… sounds horrible.”

“It is,” she replied, an unexpected softness to her tone. _Guilt._ “As leader of the Kirijo Group, I’ve made it my duty to prevent that cruel history from repeating itself.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?” Haru looked down at her lap, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Do you suspect that there have been more of these Persona-related experiments?”

Kirijo nodded, though her expression remained somewhat downcast. “Our goal is to stop these procedures before they can cause harm. However, in researching the work done by the lab backed by Shido Masayoshi… we fear we may have been far too late.” Her grip on the cup tightened ever-so-slightly. “And now all that is left is making sure the lasting damage can be minimized.”

Makoto’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“We believe that Persona-inducing experiments were conducted in Tokyo twelve years ago,” Kirijo explained, “and that the only recorded survivor of these experiments is still alive.”

-

Akira tensed, fixing Robin with an intense glare. “And why,” he forced through gritted teeth, “are you asking about _him?”_

Akechi Goro was an open wound, torn deep inside of Akira’s heart. The man who prided himself on being able to help others, being able to _save_ them, coming so close to success and yet falling apart so completely. The rest of his allies hadn’t known Akechi like Akira had, regarding him with a kind of distant sympathy reserved for those who were beyond redemption but still understandable in their actions. Akira knew, though. He knew Akechi wasn’t beyond saving. If he’d just reached out more, tried a little harder, acted a little faster in that engine room then _maybe—_

Robin folded his hands neatly on his lap. “A well-known celebrity goes missing, security footage suggesting he had just vanished into thin air… and I have reason to believe he may have been more involved with you and the other thieves than he let on.” He paused, letting his words settle on the room like icy droplets of water. “I’ve always wondered what happens to people who die in the cognitive world.”

“I don’t know,” Akira spat. “I don’t _know_ what happened to him, and I don’t know what the hell you’re getting at by talking about ‘dying in the cognitive world’.”

“Kurusu-san,” Robin’s tone was level, as if trying to diffuse the tension he himself had created, “your actions, your tone... you’re completely _transparent._ I already know that you have the answers for me, and I just want to hear them from you.”

Akira dug his fingernails into his palms so hard he wondered if he was drawing blood. _My actions._ He suddenly felt as though he’d been stripped naked, left cowering exposed on an examination table as cold eyes analyzed him. No, some of that wasn’t even a metaphor – Robin _was_ analyzing him. He had to steel himself, he couldn’t let his emotions show so strongly, or else he was just giving himself away.

“I don’t know,” he repeated. Internally, he tried to lean on the fact that he _didn’t_ know. The watertight door had closed before Akechi’s final moments. If he could convince himself he wasn’t lying, then maybe that’s what it would take to convince Robin.

The psychologist remained silent. “…I see.” He neatened the papers in his hands. “I believe we won’t get any further with this today. Would you be willing to meet again in a few days?”

Akira flinched, looking up. “What?”

Robin looked at him as if he were a moron. “I _said—”_

“I—I know what you said, but why would you… why would _I_ come back…?” Akira looked away, unable to stand even getting close to making eye contact with Robin.

“There are very few masters of Cognitive Pscience in this world, Kurusu-san.” Robin set his papers down. “Very few people that could potentially help you. If you aid my research, I assure you that you… and your friends, will benefit.”

“How could you help us? Our time in the cognitive world is in the past. It’s over.” Akira stood. “I… I won’t be coming back.”

“Even if I told you,” Robin spoke in a low, even tone, “that there may be a way to save Akechi Goro?”

With that, all Akira could stand to do was storm out of the apartment.

-

Akira did often wonder how others perceived him. He guessed they saw him as capable, level-headed, at peace with himself, and always able to help others. _Good._ That’s how he wanted people to see him. He wanted them to just assume he was always fine without putting much thought into whether that was really true. He didn’t need anyone to know that he really wasn’t _any_ of those things.

Sometimes he wondered that, if Yaldabaoth hadn’t given him his role as a ‘trickster’ and gifted him with a Persona, how pathetic his shadow would’ve been. He imagined a leader-less Phantom Thieves, spearheaded probably by Ann or Morgana, delving into the depths of Mementos to confront his sniveling, cowardly other self. Maybe it would’ve gotten really bad and he would’ve had a palace, distorted by his desire to have people _like him,_ no matter what it cost himself.

He imagined himself, a child with luminous golden eyes, crying out for a distant mother and an absent father, crying out for friends that wouldn’t abandon him, and crying out for the dead man he was still in love with two years after his death. He wondered what a palace belonging to him would even look like, or where it would even be. A prison seemed fitting, perhaps something like the Velvet Room that sprawled in every direction, hue-shifted to a deep red as if seen through tinted glass. It’d be all a great big show, smoke and mirrors, to hide how weak and sad he really was on the inside.

He really should have met Akechi sooner. He spat out venom green with jealousy without realizing that behind the mask, behind the confidence that ‘Joker’ gave him, Akira was nothing. The way Akechi saw himself was sickeningly similar to Akira’s own reality. In another world, they could’ve gotten along great.

(Except, maybe they did get along. Maybe Akechi’s kindness wasn’t entirely fake. Maybe Akira wasn’t the only one who cared.)

He returned to his apartment, grateful that Futaba had taken Morgana for the night. Sure, the deal was that Akira would come and pick him up as soon as his meeting with Robin was over, but nothing appealed to him less than having to explain how he was feeling to anyone. His friends relied on him, and they were too good of people to deny him if they knew he was upset, even if they would inevitably hurt themselves in the process.

No, this was a burden self-imposed. He knew that a life built around supporting others would end up being a lonely one. It was _fine._ He was _fine._ He rationalized in his head that he didn’t need help, because there was no one he could turn to to help him. There was no one he could think of that he didn’t feel some odd responsibility for, and thus couldn’t bear burdening with his problems.

It was only after a night of restless, miserable dreams that Akira awoke to the realization that there _was_ someone he could turn to. There _was_ someone he didn’t feel like he had to support, purely because this was someone who had their own life together.

The only problem was that this was someone in his _family._

Akira’s family life had always been… complicated. His mother was distant and not very sociable, and had a knack for finding relationships with men that were similarly so. She attracted workaholics that she’d never spend any time with, and then seem surprised when the relationships fell apart. Akira’s father had been the longest relationship she had, but it had been the most spectacular meltdown. He walked abruptly out of Akira’s life when he was ten, and while there was a pitiful attempt to stay in touch, eventually Akira realized that he hadn’t heard from the man in several years.

(A late-night social media search revealed he had married a much younger woman and had kids with her. Akira wondered idly if he would ever know his half-siblings, or if that bridge was burned before he’d ever even thought about crossing it.)

For a long time, it was just him and his mother. She wasn’t a cruel woman, and did sincerely love her son, but she lacked any ability to connect with others emotionally. She cared for Akira, got him everything he needed and much of what he wanted, and always tried to make time to spend with him, but he always felt like there was a wall between them. Even when Akira chose to keep her maiden name – Kurusu – instead of keeping his father’s, she seemed unmoved by the gesture. He’d thought that such a show of loyalty would finally crack something, finally unlock the secret to making his mother truly love him, but it didn’t work.

Akira was sixteen – a mere year before he was sent on probation – when his mother finally remarried. Her new husband was a kind and polite man, but once again, a distant workaholic. Still, Akira appreciated how he made some effort to get to know him and get along with him, and he did seem to truly care about his mother. He was stern and serious, and fell into his role as a step-father more easily than Akira would’ve liked, but overall he had no problems with the man.

It turned out that he’d had a son of his own who was several years older than Akira, and had just started university. They had met face-to-face only a few times, and Akira liked him well enough. When he went off back to university after first visiting home, he had given his contact information to Akira so that they could keep in touch. It may have been a bit too late for his step-family to really feel like family to him, but he was at least optimistic that everyone could get along and live in relative contentment.

And then, Akira was branded a delinquent. His step-father did a complete turn from a good-natured man into someone more like a drill sergeant than a father. He was furious with Akira, lecturing him venomously as his mother did nothing but watch from the background. He was instructed sternly to _never_ contact his step-brother during his probation, as he hardly needed to be ‘distracted’ by some criminal’s antics.

Akira was glad, then, that he kept his mother’s surname instead of taking his. Not only did ‘Narukami Akira’ not have a great ring to it, but now he wanted nothing to do with his step-father.

But his step-brother hadn’t done anything. By all accounts, he seemed like a really good guy. On top of that, he had a psychology degree, and from what Akira had seen on social media, was currently taking a gap year before pursuing his degree further.

He debated back and forth whether to ask for help. Sure, his step-brother didn’t know him well enough to have any expectations, but would he even _want_ to help some college-dropout? And how would he get help without giving away things about the Metaverse? The last thing he needed was to worry about a magical world of ‘Personas’ and ‘Shadows’ when he’s got a real life to get to.

Eventually, for better or for worse, he caved and sent a text to Narukami Yu.

**“hey, do you wanna catch up sometime?”**

And then, immediately after hitting send, he buried his face in a pillow and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a soft spot for 'Akira-has-a-palace' fics, and so while this isn't one of them, I had to sprinkle in a little bit in there, just because. Also - protag step-brothers! I'm not 100% sure how the timelines of P3/P4/P5 line up, but for the purposes of this fic, Yu is 23 while Akira is currently 19. 
> 
> (I don't know how old Mitsuru is because I'm terrible at math, but I'm guessing she's in her late-twenties at this point. I also decided to spare her dignity and give her a more professional outfit, though I'm sure she still wears the big fur coat sometimes.)
> 
> Also, really there's not gonna be much P3 besides Mitsuru and worldbuilding stuff with the Kirijo Group + the Shadow Operatives. Do you guys think I should put this fic in the P3 tag? I think I'm already pushing it with the P4 tag, so I'm not sure.
> 
> Well, anyways, as always - please leave comments telling me what you think! Even criticism is welcome, I'm always looking to improve my writing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the desc and tags to better reflect the story!

Akira sometimes imagined that there was a smaller version of himself in his brain, piloting his body like a cartoon mech suit. The idea was funny and felt fitting, as he often felt as though there was a single rational voice in his mind while the rest of him lived in a constant state of anxiety. He knew it was kind of a dumb thing to think about, probably a complete waste of time, but he was just the sort of person that liked visualizing things. Maybe spending so much time in other people’s heads affected his own.

Right now, however, mini-Akira was banging his face against the controls, muffling his screams in torn-up wires while the rest of his body simply blue-screened like an old computer waterlogged with porn viruses. He couldn’t _believe_ that he’d talked himself into asking Yu for help; what was he _thinking?_ ‘Oh, it’d be better if it were a stranger, because they have no expectations’ – what was that _logic!?_

Of course, just as Akira remembered, Yu was one of the nicest and most polite guys in the world, and probably didn’t have the heart to go ‘wait, I have almost no idea who you are, and haven’t had a proper conversation with you face-to-face in years’. That was definitely the only reason he accepted. Apparently, a friend lived in the area that he’d been meaning to visit anyways, so he would be able to kill two birds with one stone.

(Akira imagined that if he were tasked to kill even _one_ bird with one stone, he would somehow manage to bludgeon himself to death with it.)

After sending a message in his group chat (it was a mirror selfie with the caption ‘finally caught the bitch who’s been ruining my life’), he finished getting ready. It had been a few days since making plans with Yu, and the dreaded moment approached faster and faster. He’d said he would arrive at some point in the evening, and Akira gave him the address for LéBlanc. Seemed like Yu was a bit of a coffee snob too, so at least they had something in common.

“You seem pretty jittery,” Morgana pointed out unhelpfully, perching himself on the arm of a chair while Akira pulled a shirt on. “He’s just your step-brother, not some kind of giant monster, you know.”

“You can’t prove that,” he responded sarcastically. “Maybe he metamorphized into a mass of tentacles and teeth in the time since I’ve last seen him.”

Morgana rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that with a response. “Well, being around you is starting to make _me_ jittery. I’m gonna go hang out with Futaba.” He turned to leave through the window, but any intention to make a dignified exit fell flat when he realized he couldn’t get it open with his paws.

Akira opened it for him with just a little bit of smugness. Morgana pretended to accidentally smack him with his tail as he hopped out.

He made his way to the café after that, finally easing a bit with something to actually _do_. It left him with less time to angst around with his thoughts, and as long as he didn’t _think_ about his problems, then they practically didn’t exist. There were less customers than usual, but it was more than enough to keep him busy.

And so of course it was during a lull that his phone rang with that _damn blocked number._ He, of course, wasn’t about to answer it and get interrogated by a pint-sized psychologist when he was having his own crises. Robin was going to have to find some other phantom thief to pick apart like a bug under a microscope. Maybe they could sic Yusuke on him – not even a professional psychologist could begin to unravel what goes on in _his_ head. It’d keep Robin busy for years.

Yet, he was nothing if not _persistent._ After a few ignored calls, at last he shed the thin guise of a blocked number, and Akira found his phone buzzing with a text from someone not in his contacts list. Akira rolled his eyes and registered the number, if only so he knew to ignore it any time the name came up.

**Nakamura** : Kurusu.

A few minutes passed before Robin seemingly figured out that Akira wasn’t going to answer a text like that.

**Nakamura** : I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.

**Nakamura** : If you were to come back, I’ll be more considerate of the questions I ask.

Akira could have laughed if he weren’t only stealing glances at his phone in between serving customers. _‘On the wrong foot?’_ Robin had called him in just to ask _extremely_ invasive questions as if that wouldn’t chase any normal person away.

No. _No._ Robin doesn’t get the satisfaction of a response. He gets to see the little ‘read’ receipt and never hear back. That was the greatest act of evil Akira could unleash upon someone, and Robin deserved it. He turned his phone off and shoved it into his pocket, suddenly finding himself far more willing to endure the inevitably awkward encounter with his step-brother if it meant being able to put the psychologist completely out of his mind.

A text from his step brother confirmed he was coming over at around eight PM, and that apparently a friend might tag along. It was going to be fine. He would make coffee or something, chat for a bit, and make an excuse to kick him out at the soonest possibility – all _without_ thinking about Robin Nakamura at all.

But throughout the day, he can’t help but feel a sense of _wrongness_ crawling up his neck.

-

Akira hadn’t seen Narukami Yu in quite a long time, though he still recognized him immediately when he entered the café. He was tall, with short silver hair (he joked once that his father’s family was cursed to go grey from birth, and as fair as Akira knew, he wasn’t wrong) and the kind of face that could win over anyone with a smile.

The clumsy brunet behind him was a new face, however. He carried himself with an awkward confidence, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about himself but was willing to go along with whatever. Getting a better look at him, Akira realized he recognized his face from various social media posts on Yu’s account – this must be the friend he wanted to visit while he was here.

“Woah, this place really is hidden. We walked past it like ten times,” Yu’s friend spoke first, striding forward and stopping at the counter. “Well, anyways; you’re Kurusu, right?”

Akira was tempted to say ‘no’, just to see how the poor guy floundered, but then he remembered that taking his own bad mood out on others would be considered unfair. “Yep, that’s me.”

Yu approached as well with an apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind I brought him along. Figured it’d be alright, though.”

“Woah, hey,” the plus-one elbowed Yu, “now I feel like I’m totally invading, dude!”

Akira spared him an easygoing chuckle as an act of mercy. “No, no, it’s really fine. Take a seat – you like coffee? I’ll make us some.” He started searching for beans that were cheap enough to justify brewing them for free, but good quality enough to be suited for guests. “Oh, right,” he glanced over his shoulder, “what’s your name, by the way?”

“Hanamura Yosuke!” He offered a crooked grin, before throwing an amicable arm around Yu’s shoulders. “Me and your brother here go _way_ back.”

“To high school,” Yu clarified.

“Dude, high school counts as ‘way back’ at this point!”

Considering it was close enough to closing time anyways, and there hadn’t been any customers in awhile, Akira quickly closed up. He, Yu, and Hanamura took up residency at one of the booths, all sipping their own cups of coffee. He tried not to snicker when Hanamura poured entirely too much sugar into his coffee and quietly cursed under his breath.

Yu gazed around the room, seeming content. “This is a nice place. This is where you stayed a few years back, right? With dad’s old friend.”

Setting down his mug, Akira nodded. “Yeah. Sakura-san stuffed me into the attic, actually.” Sojiro had expressed that Akira could use his first name if he wanted to, but it still felt weird to say aloud – even if the guy was practically a third dad at this point. “It was a wreck, but I eventually made it comfortable.”

“Oh right,” Hanamura leaned back in the booth seat, “Yu told me awhile back – you actually lived around Inaba, right?”

Akira nodded. “Just a town or two over, I think. I used to visit Inaba every now and then since some kids at my middle school actually lived there. It’s a pretty nice spot.”

He sighed wistfully. “Man, I lived there for a couple years. I used to hate it – wanted to get back to the city ‘n all – but man, now I’m seriously missing it. Country life is boring, but there’s just that ‘something’, y’know?” A pause. “Also, I didn’t have to deal with getting woken up at 3 AM by my neighbors loudly doing the sideways tango, y’know?”

Yu laughed softly. “So you’ve said.”

“Dude, they’re ridiculous!” Hanamura threw his hands up in disbelief. “It’s like – how much stamina do these people have!” He frowned, grabbing his cup and taking an indignant sip of his likely-inedible coffee. “Well, whatever. Anyways – country life or city life? All three of us have lived in both.”

“Inaba’s always gonna be a second home… but you can take the boy out of the city, but not the city out of the boy,” Yu replied.

“I’ve planted some roots here,” Akira paused to sip his coffee, “but in my heart, I think I’m still a country boy.” He propped his elbows on the table. “Also, you can find some peace in that horny neighbors is a universal constant – I don’t know what kind of life the people above me are living, but I’m getting a little jealous.”

The booth burst into laughter at that, and for a moment, Akira felt okay. Maybe this _hadn’t_ been a terrible idea after all. Well, no, it was definitely a terrible _idea,_ but at least it had turned out okay. Yu was as easygoing and friendly as ever, and Hanamura was pretty funny when he tried. Akira had prepared himself to just slog through awkward catching-up until he could find a reason to make them leave, but in the end they had stayed until nearly midnight.

“Ah, shit – I got work in the morning,” Hanamura said with alarm when he noticed the clock on his phone. Akira confirmed with a grimace that it was 11:58 – later than intended by a long shot. Still, he gave Akira a friendly grin. “Hey, it was real nice meeting you, man. I guess if I ever end up in Yongen-jaya, I know where to go.”

“As long as you can find it again,” Yu added teasingly, standing and grabbing his things.

“What can I say? LéBlanc prides itself on being a hidden gem. We can’t be too easy to find.” Akira chuckled easily. “Anyways, I’ll see you two around.” For a moment, he worried that maybe suggesting he would see them again was a bit too forward.

His worries eased a bit when Yu nodded. “Of course. I’ll be here for a bit longer. My schedule’s pretty light this semester, so I actually have free time to travel around.”

“Our psych nerd is finally free from the claws of his education!” Hanamura joked.

(That feeling of wrongness from earlier was coming back, though.)

“Well, anyways,” Yu headed for the door. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll treat next time.” Before Akira could protest, he pushed the door open. “Seeya.”

And yet, in a perfectly mundane moment, Akira suddenly felt a feeling of sickening vertigo, intense enough that his knees wobbled and his vision blurred. He grabbed onto one of the seats for balance as his eyes adjusted. Yu and Hanamura both seemed a bit shaken themselves, with the former frozen in shock as he holds open the café door.

Deep red light spilled in from a world that seemed to be frozen, with the clock on the wall locked in place perfectly at midnight.

-

The world has a heartbeat, that’s what most people don’t understand. The air runs with intangible veins and arteries, and if you press your ear to the earth you can feel the soil breathing. Open your mouth on a humid afternoon and you’ll taste blood on the vapor.

A shadow moves along the empty streets, heels clicking against the cobblestone like tapping against bones. An invasive being, a disease no antibody can defeat. He is a foreign infection, at home within the flesh, unable to be cleansed. Necrosis personified, he drags clawed hands across the wall to smear old blood off of them. There is only so long one can spend amongst monsters before starting to change. Distortion spreads like a fungus.

And yet he sleeps each night to the rhythm of the beating beneath his feet. The earth shudders with a breath that is held tentatively, and he lets himself pause and be bathed in the sickly red light that washes over the earth.

(Right now, the world’s heart is thundering.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. Welcome to Somnum Exterreri, everyone.


	5. [INTERMISSION]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to have this be a part of next chapter, but I decided to let it have its own thing. Just for fun!
> 
> Also, while you're here, I made a Twitter just for talking about fanfic and stuff. Lots of p5 on there! If you post mostly persona/fire emblem stuff too, I'd love to be mutuals :D 
> 
> https://twitter.com/PrinceWinter15

_A common trend, in the wake of a disaster, is to tell others where you were when it struck. It gives the impression that you were somehow involved when you weren’t, or maybe it’s just to show that it affected you so much that you still remember exactly what you were doing. Personally, I think it’s more often the former – humans are creatures that just_ love _to claw for attention at any chance. I would know._

 _So, the game began on that night, washed in the red light of a frozen moon. On the first breath of the new Dark Hour, where were our heroes, exactly? Tokyo found itself devoured in darkness, after all. They’re not_ all _such fools that they wouldn’t notice._

_When the Dark Hour struck, Takamaki had just returned home from her modeling trip. Traffic had meant her ride from the airport hadn’t delivered her until late. She had been in the middle of getting ready to retire for the night when the vertigo knocked her off balance. When she finally recovered, her home had fallen silent, and red light shone dully onto her from the window._

_For the younger Niijima and her darling Okumura… they had actually been in the middle of an online conference with officials from the Kirijo group. After hearing about the injustices committed by that team of scientists, their ‘do-good’ nature just wouldn’t let them leave well enough alone. I wish they hadn’t been cut off by the Dark Hour’s aversion to technology so soon – one of the photos of the subjects… I’d love to see the looks on their faces when they saw it._

_Sakamoto could’ve slept through the ordeal if not for the pounding on his door. He’d slept through the transition that left others dizzy and disoriented, but was still left stunned and horrified by the situation he’d woken up in. A familiar face greeted him at the door; one that, by all accounts, should_ not _have been there. It was certainly going to be a long hour._

_Kitagawa had been pulling a not-uncommon all-nighter to finish some gaudy, confusing piece of art. I’d feel bad for his roommate if I cared enough, as paint had splattered across every piece of furniture from his mad splashing. He was so invested in his ‘masterpiece’, he probably wouldn’t have known anything happened at all if the vertigo hadn’t caused him to stumble and spill half his paint on the floor. Once the despair subsided, he actually looked up and realized that something was wrong._

_Sakura and the cat were together when the hour struck, and the latter’s sudden transformation into his cartoonish form had caused them both to shriek in surprise. The panic only mounted when she realized that her guardian had simply vanished into thin air a few rooms over. A mere few years ago she had feared the world was out to get her, and now it actually was. What a pity._

_And yet, a few blocks down the street from her, we land upon our dear_ _thief himself. The shadow of a leader stood in a frozen, stunned silence as the duo from Inaba stared helplessly at the infected world before them. It was really quite rude, how they gazed with such fear and disgust; after all, that’s someone’s_ home _you’re cringing at._

_As for myself, I was simply watching the world, as I usually do. It was strange, though – I was so used to being on the other side of a one-way mirror, and now suddenly my little ants could potentially see me too. It felt the same as those moments in a dream where you finally realize you’ve been at school naked the entire time._

_Thankfully, this was my territory, not theirs. I knew it better than anyone ever could. Every beast that crawls the alleyways, every distorted building twisted from the original, and of course the epicenter of the disease – the palace at the core._

_For much of my life, I had been plunging headfirst into enemy territory. Now, at last, I was able to play on my home field. I had all of the advantages in the world._

_Let’s see you try and best me now, Joker._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally finished my playthrough of Royal. This is still a vanilla P5-verse fic, but I realized that some of the stuff in this fic is a bit similar to events of the third semester. I won't go into detail to avoid spoilers, but I just wanted to say that I'm aware of the similarities! But, I think my ideas here are different enough that I don't think I should change them or anything.
> 
> Also! I'll be sticking with initial personas here, as they're the more recognizable and 'iconic' ones. That doesn't mean Akira and Yu never maxed out their friendships or anything, it's just a decision I made as an author.

When Akira felt as though he had control of his own legs once more, he burst through the door of Leblanc, stumbling onto the red-soaked streets. His stomach sank with dread as he felt the familiar prickling beneath his skin of his persona, _Arsene_ ; the only one he hadn’t dismissed from his soul years ago. The humming of power he felt within his chest felt foreign after all this time, as though he no longer deserved it.

Yongen-jaya was completely deserted, and the distant sound of trains and cars had been silenced. All around him the air felt thick and stale with no discernable temperature. Something about the world felt fluid and ever-shifting, a sensation he remembered from his many adventures into the Metaverse.

“…it’s back,” he breathed, his voice inaudible. _But how was that possible?_ He hadn’t used the Nav; after all, it was _gone._ He’d beaten Yaldabaoth at his own game, in the process losing his connection to the other world.

_“Shit.”_ He heard Hanamura’s voice behind him, giving him a stark reminder that he was _not_ alone. “This, uh, this isn’t what Yongen usually looks like at night, right?”

Akira looked down at himself quickly, relieved when he saw his usual outfit instead of his Metaverse clothes. At least he didn’t have to explain _that._ “I… I have no idea what’s going on here,” Akira half-lied, before a realization shot through him. “Shit – _Futaba!_ ”

“Woah, hey!” Hanamura reached for him, but it was too late. Akira was off.

He scarcely heard Yu mention something about _‘that thing with Minazuki’_ as he ran off, but it was quickly pushed out of his mind. Futaba, his best friend – someone he regarded like _family –_ was she okay? She may have improved greatly with her anxiety in the past few years, but she must be panicking right now for sure.

He tried to text her as he ran, but his phone wouldn’t even turn on. Even the doorbell for the Sakura residence wasn’t working. Just as he was about to hop the gate and break in if needed, the door burst open. Futaba launched herself into his arms, pulling him into a shaky hug.

“Oh my god you’reokay _you’reokay_ —” She blurted, her words mixing together as she rushed to squeeze them all out. “A-Akira I—I don’t know what’s going on, Sojiro’s _gone_ and Mona’s a-all Metaverse-y and everything’s—”

He hugged her back, trying to comfort her. “Futaba, focus on your breathing, just like you were taught.” He tried to recall the advice she said her therapist had given her. “In,” he said softly, pausing for a moment, “—and out.”

After a few moments, she stopped shaking enough to finally let go, standing on her own. She wiped away a few tears. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “panic attack.”

Relief washed over Akira once she was okay. This terrifying situation be damned – if he could just make sure the people he cared about were alright, then everything would be fine. “Don’t be sorry, this is a messed up situation. It’s pretty reasonable to be freaked out.”

“It’s just like she said, though,” Morgana’s voice suddenly cut through. Akira looked over and saw he had hopped up onto the gate of the Sakura residence, once again bipedal. “This has to be a Palace, somehow… but how did we both get dragged in? There’s no nav, and we were definitely out of range of each other…”

“…Kurusu?” Akira jumped as he turned around, almost completely forgetting about Hanamura and Yu. “What’d you run off for— _what the hell is that?!”_ Once his eyes fell on Morgana, he jumped nearly a foot back in panic.

Yu, however, walked over completely unphased. “It’s a cat.”

“Hey, I’m—” Morgana was cut off as Yu started petting him, and he sighed. “Okay, I’m sort of a cat,” he admitted.

“Dude, partner, only you would walk right up to some kinda weird cat-creature and just start _petting it._ ” Hanamura sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Uh,” Futaba cut in, “Akira, who are…?”

_Ah. She doesn’t know them._ Akira had nearly forgotten that she’d stopped bugging Leblanc awhile back. “That’s Yu, my… uh, my step-brother,” her eyes widened, so before she could demand an explanation he moved on, “and his friend, Hanamura-san.”

“Dude, we’re in hell, just call me Yosuke at this point.” He groaned. “Now who’s this?”

Employing her classic strategy of ‘overcome shyness by faking boldness’, she decided to step forward and puff her chest out proudly. “I am Sakura Futaba! Your local genius, and Akira’s best bud.”

Yu nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sakura-san; but we can get more acquainted later.” He paused, looking around with a serious expression. “…does anyone… hear that?”

Something shifts, and Akira’s stomach drops. He turns quickly to face the street behind him, his eyes scanning desperately over the frozen cars looking for a sign of _anything, anyone, whatever it could be—_

And quickly his prayers were answered in the worst way. A creature made of dark, pulsating material emerges from an open window, sliding down the walls and leaving behind a sticky, oily trail. Akira can’t figure out exactly where it starts and where it ends; all he can see is a long body, at least eight limbs, and many, many eyes. It stops in the street and stares them down, letting out a low rumbling sound halfway between a growl and a distant car crash.

“A _shadow?”_ Yosuke hissed.

_Wait, what?_ Akira turned and opens his mouth to question him, but the moment he took his eyes off of the monster it lunged for him. Claws slashed through his legs, sending him stumbling back as Futaba shrieked and scrambled to get out of the way. Morgana jumped in with astounding reflexes, pulling out one of his old cutlasses to drag it through the shadow’s oily flesh.

The shadow scrambled away, climbing up the wall of the Sakura residence like a spider, fixing the group with a glare as it poised to attack again.

“What do we _do!?”_ Futaba hissed, and Akira understood the second meaning to that question. He could feel Arsene’s power pulsating within him, just one twitch of his finger and he could unleash his fury onto the monster that had attacked him, but that would mean exposing himself to Yu and Yosuke.

He didn’t have a good answer. All he had was a single shout. _“Run!”_

No one protested that plan, and the group took off. The shadow was in hot pursuit, its many legs thundering against the ground as it tore across roads and brick walls. Akira grabbed Morgana, who was having a hard time keeping up on legs he was unused to, and sharply turned a corner –

To face down three more identical shadows. They were trapped.

“Now what?” Yosuke’s head whipped around, looking terrified as the shadows surrounded them.

Exposure was clearly no longer an issue here. Akira took a deep breath, readying himself to tap into his old powers. He opened his mouth to call forth Arsene when unexpectedly, Yu stepped forward. He met one of the shadows’ many eyes with his own steely gaze. “We fight our way out.”

Yosuke flinched. “Wait, partner—”

Yu spared Akira an apologetic glance. “You’re about to have a lot of questions.” Before Akira could figure out what he meant, Yu raised a hand and shouted, a burst of blue light breaking up the red haze that surrounded them.

_“IZANAGI!”_

He was right about one thing at least, Akira _did_ have a lot of questions. An armored figure appeared above Yu, wreathed in the familiar blue flames of a persona. Those same blue flames, once dissipated, revealed him to be in an entirely new outfit – one with a long silver coat, accented with shades of red and black.

Everything in front of him was leading to a single conclusion – Yu had a persona. His step-brother, who he hadn’t had a proper conversation with in _years_ until today, had a persona. Yet, it was like his brain just couldn’t compute it. He felt like he was watching the fight unfold through a fuzzy old TV screen. His mind nearly short-circuited entirely when Yosuke joined the fray, his own persona fighting alongside the other.

Morgana hopped onto his shoulder and smacked the back of his head. “Save the confusion for later,” he snapped, helping to bring Akira out of his thoughts, “we have to fight!”

“Right,” he gasped out in reply, before calling on his long-dormant power again at last. “ _Arsene!”_ Flames wreathed him as he donned his familiar rebel’s garb, mask dissolving as quickly as it manifested as his persona rushed forward, coating its claws in curse energy as it cleaves through one of the mutant shadows.

Akira didn’t see or hear Futaba summon her persona, but before long he heard the familiar hum of Necronomicon, and her filtered voice giving analysis and commands. _“—this shadow is called Jba Fofi, it should be vulnerable to… wind attacks!”_

Akira turned to Morgana, but someone else acted first. “On it!” Yosuke responded, before his persona leapt into action and sliced through one of the spider-beasts with an emerald blade of wind. The shadow let out a horrible shriek and tried to escape, but was dispatched with a cleave from Yu’s persona’s buster sword.

“Bad news,” Morgana cut in. “There are more of them coming! Futaba, we need a way out!”

_“Huh? Ah—”_ Futaba let out a gasp. _“Crap, you’re right, there are a lot of readings coming your way! Go on the defensive, I’ll search for a way out!”_

“Defensive, huh?” Yu let out a sigh. “Of all the times that Kanji or Chie aren’t around…”

“C’mon, we’re not pushovers!” Yosuke clapped him on the shoulder, before staring down the incoming enemies unwaveringly. “We just gotta hold them off long enough for spaceship girl to get us out of here.”

_“Hey, I just told you my name!”_

Akira still had a _lot_ of questions, but he put them aside for now. What he needed to do was focus on the fight ahead, he can bombard the others with questions once they were safe. The strategies he had learned during his days as a thief returned to him, and he swept his gaze over the battle with an analytical mind.

‘ _Morgana and Yosuke are our best attackers,’_ he noted, considering the shadow’s weaknesses. _‘What’s the best way to support them?’_ A fire skill would be _lovely_ right about now, but Akira had made the mistake of assuming he was done fighting demons and had dismissed all of his wild card personas.

Still, it wasn’t like Arsene was useless. With a command, his persona leapt up into the air and dove back down, sending out a shockwave that caused the approaching shadows to stagger. _Dormin rush._ The spiderlike beasts seemed caught between wakefulness and sleep, stumbling as their long legs got caught up in one another.

Yosuke and Morgana jumped onto the vulnerability expertly, picking off one shadow each with a well-aimed _Garudyne._ One shadow careened into a wall, being hit by the edge of a wind attack, but Yu’s persona pounced on it and cleaved it in half. The defeated shadows let out shrill screams as they shriveled up and faded into reddish smog.

However, just as Morgana and Futaba had warned, more shadows quickly replaced those that had been defeated. One lunged unexpectedly out of an open window, crashing directly into Akira and pinning him to the ground. He let out a scream of pain as claws dug into him, drawing blood that soaked his coat.

“Akira!” Yu shouted, before a blast of curse energy sent the shadow flying. He pulled himself to his feet as quickly as he could, but it was clear that had been a particularly unfortunate hit.

_“Huh? Guys, there’s a seriously powerful reading nearby! We have to—”_ Necronomicon barely hovered out of the way in time as a shadow leapt up to get at Futaba. _“—Leblanc! Leblanc is a saferoom!”_

“Alright, retreat!” Morgana darted towards the Yongen backstreets as the others followed. Futaba did what she could to heal Akira’s wounds enough to let him run, but he still felt his body howl in protest as he forced himself to hurry back to Leblanc. Morgana did his part to clear out any shadows in their path with blasts of wind, fending off the hordes of spiders as they made their escape.

After the harrowing chase, they barely made it through the doors to Leblanc before another shadow charged through them. Despite knowing it was a safe room, Akira couldn’t help but worry that the spider was going to nonetheless crash through the window and continue its pursuit. Thankfully, though, it was as if the spider had forgotten they existed the second the door closed behind them, continuing to lumber around the backstreets in search of new prey.

Immediately, Akira sank into a booth, groaning as his body finally gave up on him. _One hit_. He’d gone down practically in _one hit._ He knew he was out of practice fighting shadows, but surely it wasn’t _this_ bad, right? He could hardly fend of a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Morgana hopped over and Akira sighed in relief as a _Diarahan_ flowed through him. He was still exhausted and sore, but his wounds were at least stitched back together, and he was able to sit up. _What now?_

He looked over at Yu and Yosuke, who seemed to have only just realized their change in outfits, confusion painting their expressions. _Right. Them._

“So,” Yu began, “shadows? We’ve fought them plenty of times. But, uh, the outfits are new.”

Futaba rocked back and forth on her heels. “We probably have a lot to catch each other up on, huh?”

-

A few years ago, in a small town called Inaba, there had been a string of kidnappings – some ending in murder. The bodies recovered all shared puzzling traits: they were found hanging upside down from the telephone wires, as if on some kind of macabre display. No causes of death could be discerned, nor were there any witnesses or DNA evidence to track the killer. It was as if they had been killed by a ghost.

This is around when Yu discovered that there was another world – a very _dangerous_ one – that could be accessed through a turned-off TV screen. With his high school friends, he investigated that world and found that the previous murder victims were being trapped in there and killed by the shadows within. When his classmate was kidnapped next, the group of investigators had to act, entering the TV and fighting their way to where she was being held by her own shadow.

Facing her darker self, they managed to save her. As the killer continued to strike again, capturing more and more innocent people to trap in another world, they continued to fight and rescue others.

It was funny, Akira remembered hearing about this murder investigation on TV, as he was only a few towns over from Inaba, but no one had ever mentioned a group of teens solving the case. It was probably that nobody _knew –_ just like the Phantom Thieves, they were unknown and anonymous heroes.

Though much about the TV world and their adventures therein differed from Akira’s experience in the Metaverse, the similarities were there. Shadows, personas, cognitive spaces based on one’s own mind… apparently, Yu was even a wild card, and their group even had someone with analytical powers like Futaba. The resemblance between the two stories was uncanny.

In turn, Futaba, Morgana, and Akira caught them up on their own time as Phantom Thieves, the inner workings of the Metaverse, and the nature of palaces – all of the things that seemed to differ from how the ‘TV world’ had worked. Once they had gone over the more shock-induced questions (“Wait, how many persona-users are there?” “You guys were _Phantom Thieves?_ Like the ones on the news?” “Why would the cognitive world manifest inside TVs?” “What was that about robots and the ‘dark hour’?”) they were finally able to settle down and discuss the situation with one another.

“If this is that ‘dark hour’ thing that happened years ago,” Futaba pulled her knees up to her chest, “does that mean this is gonna happen every night?”

Morgana groaned and plopped himself down on the counter (and it wasn’t like Sojiro was there to stop him, so nobody did), dangling his hind paws off of the edge. “I just don’t understand… why _now?_ You all made it sound like those older Persona-users handled that stuff already, and then you all cleaned up the leftovers…”

“Gotta say,” Yosuke scratched the back of his neck, “I am getting a _little_ tired of being called to go on Persona adventures every few years.” He sighed and shook his head. “Like, I’ll do it, I’m not gonna just turn my back when there’s clearly something _wrong,_ but damn – it’s like I’m one of the main characters of an anime that just keeps getting rebooted!”

Futaba pushed up her glasses and snickered. “Be careful, or the catalyst for the next reboot might just be that the creators kill you off.”

“Wooah, not funny!”

Yu cut them off, emerging from being seemingly lost in thought. “You said the cognitive world and the real world nearly fused, right?”

Akira nodded. “Yeah. We managed to stop it, but…”

“You should’ve seen it!” Futaba cried, throwing out her hands in a dramatic gesture. “There were _bones_ ‘n stuff emerging from the ground, weird bloody liquid pooling in the streets… totally _macabre,_ y’know?”

Yosuke shuddered. “Wow, that sounds actually horrifying. Congrats on uh, surviving that. Glad we didn’t have to see it.”

“You would’ve eventually, if we hadn’t stopped it.” Morgana shrugged. “I guess because Tokyo has such a high population, cognitive events tend to start here and spread out. Probably the same for other populated cities in other countries.”

“A moment of silence for Los Angeles.” Yu dipped his head.

Futaba snickered, before deciding to postpone whatever LA-shaming joke she had in mind to keep on-track. “Well, if this is really the same as the ‘dark hour’, then it won’t last forever. Once we can, we should get in touch with the other thieves.”

Akira winced internally, but he knew Futaba was right. He hadn’t wanted to drag his friends into this, but surely they _knew_ now? If this was potentially affecting all of Tokyo, then they would be dragged into the Dark Hour as well. He just hoped that this wouldn’t cause any problems for them.

Yu nodded. “Right. We can try to contact the old investigation team, but they could be out of range for the Dark Hour currently.” He paused, putting a hand to his chin as he thought more. “We could contact the thieves first, and if we need more backup, we’ll call our group too.”

“It’d be a good idea to get help from others. Considering the quantity of shadows, we’ll need to strategize more, and take note of weaknesses.” Akira leaned back in his seat. “Right now we’ve got four fighters, two with wind skills and two with curse skills. That’s not exactly balanced.”

“Two with curse?” Yu asked. “I thought that was only your persona.”

‘ _…huh? But hadn’t Yu pushed the shadow off of me with a curse attack?’_ “Oh, sorry. Must’ve confused something.” Dread seated itself in his stomach, but he refused to think about it. “What does your Persona have, then?”

“Electricity,” he replied, “Maybe I could try that negotiation stuff you mentioned to recruit a shadow or two to cover more of our bases. If I can, at least.”

“Sounds good. We can at least give it a shot.” Akira’s response was casual, but he couldn’t shake the thoughts that clung to his mind like a stubborn cobweb. _‘Where did that attack come from?’_ Just as he opened his mouth to bring it up, he was cut off by frantic knocking at the door.

“Hey! _Hey!_ Lemme in!” Akira’s heart sank. The voice was easily recognizable as Ryuji. Had he come here by himself? _Was he injured?_

“I got it!” Yosuke hurried over to the door, unlocking it and allowing Ryuji to stumble in through the doorway.

…and right behind him was another, somewhat familiar person. A tall, red-haired man staggered in and slammed the door behind him, breathing heavily with sweat dripping down his face. “What the fresh _hell_ was that thing, Sakamoto!?”

Futaba gasped quietly. “The noodle guy…”

“Hey!” Akagi snapped irritably. “I have a _name –_ no, dammit, more importantly, _what the fuck is going on here!?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P4 boys can have a little metaverse outfit, as a treat.
> 
> To describe their outfits a bit, Yu's is sort of like a dark warrior deal with Izanagi's mask and coat. Yosuke's is ninja-themed with his mask being a kinda TMNT-style bandana. I might draw them or get some kind of visual ref eventually, but for now, these are the boys. Use your imagination, they look cool and are having a great time.
> 
> Anyways, have I mentioned I have a twitter? Follow me pls: https://twitter.com/PrinceWinter15


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!! Y'ALL AIN'T RID OF ME YET!!!!
> 
> I'm gonna try to release longer chapters from now on!

Akagi Jin had a completely normal life. He had a normal family, a normal job, and mostly normal friends. From a young age, he could tell that the universe was trying to drag his life into some sort of messy tornado of _weird shit,_ and very quickly he decided that no, none of that was going to be for him, thank you. He was not going to let himself get tangled up in any kind of absurd nightmare, _absolutely_ not – and aside from _one_ little blip as a kid, he had mostly managed this.

And then time froze at midnight. Because of _course_ it did.

He had been stuck cleaning up after some new hires (who were definitely not going to last long in the shop) and had been just about halfway back to his apartment when a sudden wave of vertigo nearly knocked him onto his ass. When he recovered, the familiar Shibuya backstreets he walked every day suddenly were completely foreign, now painted in shades of eerie red.

He had blinked a few times, trying to rub at his eyes to see if they were playing tricks on him, then he struggled to remember if someone had drugged him. He’d only ever tried a few _very minor_ substances when he was fresh out of high school, but even then, he’d never had a trip quite like this. His head still felt clear, despite the growing panic, but what was happening before him was just… too hard to believe.

When a massive shape started lumbering towards him, appearing like a thick-furred, jet black wolf, Jin realized that _whatever_ was going on, he was in deep shit. With a ravenous snarl, the beast lunged for him, and Jin was barely able to dodge out of the way before his head was caught in-between drool-covered jaws. Despite himself, he screamed, scrambling to his feet as he attempted to outrun his bestial pursuer.

It was _fast,_ though. Faster than he could hope to be. When he felt a puff of hot breath on his back, he knew he had to think fast, or it was over. With a quick glance around his surroundings, he located a heavy-looking metal garbage can and raced towards it, grabbing onto the handle. With a loud grunt of effort, he threw the trash can directly into the monster’s open mouth, causing the beast to stagger back with a furious howl, coughing as trash became lodged in its throat.

Jin only had a moment to feel victorious, though, as it quickly recovered and went to lunge once more. Yet, this time, it was intercepted by something he would’ve never expected.

_A fucking pirate ship._

The next few moments were a blur. A massive, glowing figure that was riding a _pirate ship_ like a _skateboard_ descended from out of nowhere and crashed into the monster, intercepting its attack and sending it flying backwards with a yowl of alarm.

“Let’s go, captain!” A familiar voice sounded from somewhere behind Jin as a man in a pirate costume jumped down from the building behind him, wielding an iron pipe as he joined the fray. With a resounding _crack,_ the heavy weapon made contact with the monster’s head, causing it to dizzily stagger off to the side, where the ghostly pirate struck it with a heavy bolt of lightning.

That was enough to make it give up on the hunt, as it quickly turned and fled further down the street. The man in the costume let out a victorious _‘whoop’_ and pumped his fist in the air. “Hell yeah! _That’s_ what I’m talkin’ about!” He donned a skull mask quickly, somehow causing the floating pirate to disappear from view.

“S—” Jin gaped at what he saw, now placing the familiar voice along with the swath of spiky blond hair. “ _Sakamoto!?”_

He turned around to face Jin, his eyes wide behind his freshly-donned mask. “Oh shit, right – man, what are you _doin’_ out here!? All the normal people up and disappeared!”

_Had everyone disappeared?_ Sakamoto _was_ the only person he’d seen since the weird night had started. No, wait, there was more important shit to figure out. Jin stomped up to Sakamoto, for once grateful for his unusual height. “You,” he hissed, jabbing a finger into the costumed man’s chest, “need to explain to me what the _hell_ is going on.”

Sakamoto, to his credit, didn’t seem a bit intimidated by Jin. Instead, he grit his teeth and glared right back up at him. “What the hell, man? What are you so effin’ angry for? I just saved your ass!”

Fair point, but Jin’s stress had to go _somewhere._ “You seem to know what’s going on better than I do, so start talking! What the _fuck_ is h—” His words were cut off by a sinister cackle. He and Sakamoto both turned towards the source, and Jin felt his stomach drop when he saw a tall, sinister figure start to lumber towards them. A visible red aura flickered around it like fire, and Jin could tell that _whatever_ this thing was, it was much stronger than the wolf monster from before.

“Shit!” Sakamoto spat. “We gotta run!”

Jin hardly needed any convincing. Though his legs ached with exhaustion from his previous run, he forced himself to get going. Despite a visible limp, Sakamoto kept pace a few steps ahead of him, but a pang of anxiety shot through Jin after some time running. _Can we keep this up?_ A glance over his shoulder confirmed that they were, in fact, still being pursued by the monster from before.

_“WATCH OUT!”_

As he was checking if the monster was behind him, Jin hadn’t seen that there were monsters in _front_ of him too. He collided head-on with a monster that resembled a giant spider, instantly tied up in a tangle of legs and sharp teeth. Something dug through his shirt, tearing through the skin on his side. He tried to scramble to follow Sakamoto, but in the chaos of all the creatures clamoring to rip him apart, he couldn’t find him.

Cursing under his breath, he steeled himself and landed a solid punch to one of the spiders’ eyes, before clamoring away. He could feel the sting of many injuries throughout his body, but adrenaline rendered them numb enough for him to run. He veered off into a narrow alleyway, scraping his shoulders against the brick wall as he ran. The spiders attempted to follow him, but their haste jammed them into the opening of the alleyway, unable to fit all of their clogged bodies through the gap.

Jin didn’t stop, though. He wasn’t about to let this opportunity get away from him. He continued to run, even as his legs started to grow weaker. Whatever hysterical strength had been pushing him forward was starting to take its toll, but he refused to acknowledge it. He simply continued to run, ducking out of the narrow alleyway onto a more open street, and into an open garage.

This is when his strength failed him at last. His legs buckled, and he found himself crumpled on the cement floor behind an old car. His breathing was heavy and labored as blood streamed from more wounds than he remembered sustaining, and he could feel his mind start to fill up with fog. _‘Is this it? Am I actually going to die?’_ Stubborn as ever, he attempted to sit up and get a look at his wounds. He refused to die here if he could help it, and if he needed to patch himself back together with whatever random trash was in this place, he would do it.

But then, at the mouth of the garage, he heard a ghastly moan. A figure that was only human in its general shape staggered in, with long, mud-filled hair covering most of its features as it shambled forward. Its movements were slow and clumsy, but there was no way Jin could hope to resist it in his current state. Despite all of his determination not to die, there was no way he was going to make it out of this situation.

Just as Jin was about to give up, however, the figure suddenly froze. Jin’s hazy vision took him a few moments to see it, but a blade glinted through its stomach where it had been skewered. The blade was roughly retracted, serrated edges ripping through the monster’s stomach and rendering it into a heap on the floor. Before his eyes, Jin watched as the monster’s corpse faded into a thick cloud of smog and dissipated into the air.

Once again, he had been saved by a random benefactor, but this time it wasn’t anyone he recognized. It was a man with a thin and lithe figure, clad in ragged clothing. A hood obscured most of his head, and what wasn’t covered by that was instead hidden behind a red-eyed mask with curved horns. Clawed hands gripped the handle of a serrated sword, which he sheathed at his hip. He approached slowly, wordlessly, with his expression completely hidden.

Idly, as if he were inspecting a scratch on a car, he eyed Jin’s injuries before crouching down beside him. “This is going to hurt. A lot.” His voice was rough and bitter. “But if you don’t want to die, you’re going to sit still and let me do what I need to do. Next time,” an audible sneer was present in his voice, “try to throw yourself at death with some _actual_ healers nearby.”

Jin tried to ask something, anything, but his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, he just went limp on the garage floor as the other man summoned some kind of dark red energy into his hands. Jin couldn’t help but let gasps of pain slip from his gritted teeth as his wounds _burned_ as if they had been doused in acid.

A clawed hand moved to cover his mouth. “Shut _up_ ,” the man hissed. “It’s like you _want_ to die. The shadows are going to hear you if you keep whining like that.”

_Shadows._ He had a name for those monsters, then? Did _he_ know what was going on? He wished he found the strength within him to ask questions, but even if he had, Jin had the feeling that this mysterious man likely wouldn’t have answered him anyways. Instead, he set his jaw and did his best not to make a sound as whatever agonizing power washed over him.

The ordeal was over quickly, at least, and Jin realized how much _better_ he felt. His wounds still ached and burned painfully, but the affects of the blood loss seemed to have ebbed away, and he was able to sit up. Angry-looking red marks slashed through his skin, but he would take that over an actively bleeding wound any day.

“You got lucky.” The man who had saved him was now cleaning blood off of his cruel-looking sword. “I’m not going to save you again, so you’re going to have to figure out how to not die on your own from now on.” Under his mask, Jin caught a glimpse of a mocking grin. “In the future, stick to small groups of two or three. Wander alone, and you’re easy prey. Move in too large of a group, and you’re a bigger target.”

Jin stood, leaning on the wall for support. “What are…” He swallowed and shook his head. “No, _who_ are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” His voice was cold and without intonation. “This is the hour of monsters, and I’m a _monster._ That’s another reason you’re so lucky – I’m possibly the only monster that would’ve passed up the chance to rip you apart.” Before Jin could open his mouth again, the man turned sharply and stalked out of the garage, into the red haze of the night.

“H-Hey, wait! Get back here!” Jin stumbled forward, still feeling a bit unsteady on his feet. “ _Hey!”_

But it was a different voice that answered him. “Akagi! There you are!” He turned to see Sakamoto heading his way, looking similarly haggard and exhausted. “Holy _shit,_ man, I thought you were dead for sure. What the hell happened?”

Jin opened his mouth to answer, then quickly shut it again. Suddenly, he couldn’t help but feel as though he should keep what had just transpired to himself – at least, the part with the strange, hooded figure. “I got away,” he answered instead. “And I hid here.”

Sakamoto didn’t question that explanation. “Shit, man, you look like absolute hell.” He cringed and shook his head. “C’mon, I think I know a safe place for us to go.”

-

As the ‘Dark Hour’ raged outside, Akira watched from one of LeBlanc’s stools as Morgana tended to Akagi’s injuries, and Futaba did her best to simplify an explanation on how the cognitive world worked. Akagi, to his credit, seemed to be making a real effort to follow along, despite how exhausted he looked.

“But if only those people with ‘personas’ exist during this Dark Hour thing… the hell am I doing here?” Akagi asked with a grimace. “I can assure you, I definitely _don’t_ have any powers. Otherwise, I would’ve made it here in way better shape.”

Morgana frowned, thinking for a moment. “It could be that you have the potential to awaken to powers, but just haven’t encountered the right situation for them to activate.”

Yu shook his head. “Is that really it? I feel like almost anyone has the ‘potential’ to have a persona. There’d probably be more people here if that were the case.”

“Maybe he’s just _really_ close to it?” Yosuke offered with a shrug.

“If nearly getting ripped apart by spiders didn’t give me magic powers,” Akagi’s tone was dry, “then I don’t know what the fuck will. I could’ve easily died out there.”

Futaba pushed up her glasses, looking down at the Necronomicon-controlled computer before her – the only piece of technology that seemed to be working – and scrolling through a few things. “You’re lucky you were hit with curse skills,” she noted, “those skills tend to run hot, and it seems it cauterized you. If the spiders had just bit you or something, then you’d be in way worse shape.”

Akagi seemed to hesitate for a moment, something it seemed only Akira himself noticed, before nodding. “I… don’t know what that means, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Ryuji stood by the café window, glowering at the reddened sky. “Dammit, how long does this ‘Dark Hour’ last!?” He paused, then looked over his shoulder at the group. “ _Don’t_ say ‘an hour’.”

“Well, my scanning shows that it shouldn’t be too long now.” Futaba continued to type away. “At least the shadows seem to completely ignore Leblanc.”

“I wonder why that is…?” Morgana sat down on the table, pressing a paw to his chin as he thought to himself. “Why Leblanc?”

Yu glanced out of the window. “No, I don’t think it’s just Leblanc. The shadows seem to be ignoring homes in general.”

“So it’s safe as long as you just… stay inside?” Akagi raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Akira decided to join the conversation at that point. “You said you ended up in a garage, and shadows didn’t ignore you there. Maybe it’s only homes.”

“Uh, but this is a café,” Yosuke pointed out.

“A café I lived in for a long time.” Akira shrugged. “Cognitive stuff seems to work on dream logic. Because I’ve lived here before, maybe now it’s considered a ‘home’, and so it’s a safe room.”

Morgana nodded. “That does make sense. After all, this was where you lived for a year – and on top of that, for a good portion of that time it was a meeting place for the Phantom Thieves. If this palace can be affected by cognitions other than those of its ruler, it makes sense that Leblanc would be a safe room.”

“You keep going on about this ‘palace’ and it’s ‘ruler’,” Akagi cut in, “but who the hell created this place? Can’t you tell?”

Morgana looked away in shame, and Futaba also seemed to deflate. “I’m trying to figure that out, but…” She sighed, putting a hand to her head and slumping forward at the table. “This place is a hotspot of cognitive activity. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, or trying to see when there’s blaring lights in your face. I can’t tell where the source of the distortion is, just that it’s somewhere in Shibuya… probably.”

“I can sense the presence of a Treasure, but I can’t even get the faintest whiff of where it could be.” Morgana was similarly defeated in tone. “There’s distortion all over the city, making it way harder to tell where the core of the palace must be.”

“You guys really never saw anything like this when you were doing that whole ‘Phantom Thief’ thing?” Akagi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, there was that Kaneshiro guy, the whole city was his palace, but the core bits were floating in the sky.” Ryuji turned away from the window, approaching the group. “But like, that whole thing was pretty damn hard to miss. It wasn’t like it was hidden, y’know, it just took us a bit to think to look _up._ ”

“Once the Dark Hour ends, we should invite everyone back to Leblanc.” Futaba closed her computer. “If the affects are as widespread as they seem, everyone should’ve noticed something, even Makoto and Haru. We’ll just have to shoot them all a text.”

Akira nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Akagi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, the last thing I wanna do is be dragged into whatever shit’s going on here, but it looks like it’s too late for me to avoid it anyways, so you all better include me in whatever plans you’ve got going on.”

“Are you sure?” Yu’s eyebrows knitted in concern. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

Akagi gave Yu a look. “Oh, is it? Damn, I didn’t even notice, I must’ve been too busy trying to keep spiders from eating my _fucking intestines_.”

“…fair.”

A feeling of faint vertigo swept over Akira, and judging by the sudden looks of dizziness on everyone else’s faces, they all felt it too. “Futaba? Is that a good sign?”

She grimaced. “I think so.”

After a few more dizzying waves, Akira blinked open his eyes to see that the red wash that had painted everything around him had faded back to the usual, faint blue. The presence of his powers fizzled out, and his clothes returned to normal. The only thing that wasn’t back to normal was the dull ache from his previous injury, and it appeared Akagi was similarly still battered.

“Fuck,” he hissed, staring down at his torn shirt, “how the hell am I going to explain this to my parents?”

“If you get back quickly enough and change, you won’t have to.” Morgana nudged him with his muzzle. “Are you alright enough to walk?”

He stood, wincing as he stretched a bit. “Probably. That healing stuff you all did definitely helped.” Akira didn’t miss how Morgana seemed to fluff up a bit with pride as Akagi said that.

“Hey, we live close enough, I’ll walk back with you.” Ryuji yawned. “ _Maaaan_ , I am so close to crashing. Futaba, Akira – can you guys organize shit with the others?”

Akira nodded, before turning to Yu and Yosuke. “…if you two want to be left out of this, then –”

Yosuke cut him off. “Dude, really? We can’t just ignore this, not when we’ve already been dragged into it. Besides,” he glanced at Akagi, “though a lot of the normal people disappeared, there still could be others like him.”

Yu nodded in agreement with his friend’s words. “We’re going to help. Yosuke’s right, if there are other people like Akagi-san, they could be in danger. We have to figure out what’s going on.”

Though Akira had been fully prepared for them to refuse, he couldn’t help but feel relief wash over him when they agreed to remain involved. “If you’re sure, then we could definitely use more power behind us on this.”

After getting phone numbers from both Yosuke and Akagi, everyone was on their way, leaving only Futaba and Akira in the café. He found himself slumping in the booth in front of her, letting out a deep, ragged sigh. He hated showing how exhausted he was, but it was pointless to try and hide it. Futaba was the hardest to hide things from.

“Once an anime protagonist, always an anime protagonist, huh?” Futaba joked wryly. “Seems like we can’t get away from this stuff.”

“I just hope I don’t have to shoot god again,” he muttered. “You have no idea how exhausting that is.”

-

**Akira has created a new group chat: Phantom Thieves… TWO**

**Akira has added Ryuji, Futaba, Yu, Jin, and 5 others to the group.**

**Akira** : wild night, huh guys?

**Haru** : Did it happen to all of you too?

**Ryuji** : it sure as hell did!!!

**Makoto** : I just can’t believe we’re dealing with Metaverse stuff again…

**Yusuke** : Hm. So it wasn’t just the lack of sleep getting to me.

**Futaba** : inari why do u never take care of urself

**Futaba** : but yeah no all of that was real

**Ann** : w8 why r we using a new chat? who r these other numbers?

**Akira** : civilian casualties

**Yosuke** : dude

**Yu** : I happened to be in Leblanc when it began.

**Ann** : oh no do we hav to explain persona stuff

**Yosuke** : nah we already know lol

**Makoto** : What???

**Haru** : Are all three of the new faces persona-users?

**Jin** : Not me.

**Jin** : But I guess the universe hates me enough to get me involved anyway.

**Akira** : lets figure this stuff out in person

**Akira** : leblanc tomorrow at 5?

**Makoto** : That works for me.

**Makoto** : Besides, I think me and Haru have met someone who can help.

-

Somehow, Akira found the energy to work in the café the next day for a mercifully quiet shift. Futaba lingered around nearly all day, working on her computer, and it wasn’t long after he closed early that Sojiro entered. Futaba mentioned that she had filled him in on what happened, so Akira knew he should’ve expected him eventually. He walked up to the counter, sitting next to where Futaba had positioned herself, and gave Akira a long, tired look.

“You really are a magnet for trouble, kid.” Sojiro sighed and shook his head. “I thought I was finally done worrying about you lot, but every time I think it’s almost over…”

“Oops,” Futaba offered with a sheepish grin. “We just can’t help it, I guess.”

Sojiro pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Good lord… Just stay safe, alright? Not just you, Futaba.” He fixed Akira with a glare. “Just because I’m not legally obligated to keep you safe anymore doesn’t mean I’m not about to lose a lot of sleep. If either of you got hurt…”

Akira’s chest tightened. Despite Sojiro’s often rough exterior, he knows that the two of them are family now, even if not by blood. After all, he’s far more of a father than Akira has ever had in his life. “We’re going to have a lot of help on this one,” he assured him, “we’ll all be looking out for each other.”

Sojiro paused, then hesitantly nodded. “Good, but _don’t_ go playing hero if it’s going to get you killed. There’s no shame in running away if you’re in real danger.”

“Well, the good news is that we already found safe places to hide if needed.” Futaba did her best to sound reassuring. “There’s a lot of them, so we should be able to take cover when we’ve gotta.”

“Alright, I’m… trusting you both to stay safe.” Akira realized that Sojiro looked older and more exhausted than he ever had. “You said the others are meeting up here soon?”

Akira nodded. “That’s why we closed up early. Uh, I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.” Sojiro stood. “I’m not going to hover around here and get in your way, but I’d appreciate if one of you could at least keep me updated a bit on what’s going on every now and then.”

Futaba saluted him. “Aye aye, captain! I’ll keep you filled in on all the deets.”

The older man let out an amused huff. “Alright then. Good luck, you two.” With that, he stood and left the café.

When the meeting time came, Ryuji was the one that showed up first, looking like he had just gotten out of bed. “Duuude, I slept like a _rock_ last night, seriously.” He dropped into one of the booths. “I’ve been staying in shape, too! Just ‘cause I haven’t been in the Metaverse in awhile doesn’t mean I’ve gotten all squishy!”

Morgana hopped up onto the table. “You were still using your persona for the first time in years, like it or not, we’ve all gotten rusty.”

“Ugh,” he rolled his eyes, “whatever, I’m sure I’ll be right back into ass-kicking form eventually.”

Soon after, Ann burst into the café. “I was only gone for a month!” she cried. “A month, and you all got back into trouble again!”

“And yet you came to help us,” Ryuji teased back at her as she took a seat across from him.

“Well, duh,” she rolled her eyes, “if you guys are getting into trouble, I’m going down with you. That’s how we are!”

Yosuke and Yu arrived not long after that and introduced themselves to Ann. Akira cringed when Yu mentioned their relation and Ann gasped. He figured a few of his friends would be surprised to find out he had a step-sibling, especially since he had avoided mentioning it for all this time.

“Akira!” Ann glared at him. “You never told us this!”

Akira shrugged, doing his best to look sheepish. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Thankfully, Yu took the heat off of him a bit. “I was already in college when our parents got married, so it’s not too surprising.”

Yosuke let out an amused snort. “Pff, figures that you and your step-brother actually get to hang out and then _boom,_ all this shit happens, right?”

“I guess we have ‘being a magnet for disaster’ in common, huh?” Akira offered with a chuckle.

Yusuke strode in not long after that, quickly exchanging introductions with Yu and Yosuke, before taking a seat at the counter. “It must have been the pressure of knowing my free time may be limited with this new Palace,” he began, “but last night, my brush practically moved itself across the canvas. I managed to get my assignments for the next week or so done in a single night. To think that a sense of urgency can bring such inspiration!”

“You didn’t sleep, did you,” Futaba replied, not looking up from her computer. 

“I… could perhaps use a cup of coffee.” Yusuke awkwardly cleared his throat.

Akira sighed and started brewing a pot, expecting that if he offered some to Yusuke, eventually everyone would want some. To think, everyone had thought that putting Yusuke on a college meal plan would finally get him to take care of himself, but alas, even with all of the resources at his fingertips, the call of being a suffering artist is too strong for him to resist.

Makoto and Haru arrived not long after, with an unfamiliar face in tow. She was a tall woman dressed in a finely-tailored suit with long, dark red hair falling down her shoulders. She introduced herself as Kirijo Mitsuru, but then she paused.

Surprisingly enough, it seemed that Yu and Yosuke _knew_ her. Apparently, the prior incident with the Dark Hour had caused them to meet.

“Sometimes, it feels like persona-users are just bound to bump into each other eventually,” Yosuke offered with a shrug.

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” Mitsuru replied with a small smile. “I’m glad you two are well, though I can’t actually say I’m surprised you managed to get tangled in another incident.” With that, she glanced at the gathered crowd. “Is this everyone?”

Akira shook his head. “We’re still waiting on Akagi.”

“Akagi…” Haru frowned. “He’s the one without a persona, right? Are we sure we want to involve him with this?”

Ryuji shrugged. “Well, we gave him the choice, and he said he was cool with it. Soooo… I guess that makes him part of the team.”

Mitsuru seemed to consider that for a moment. “I won’t object to more people on our side, but it’s a bit worrying to have someone without any powers. Unless he awakens to them, we will have to be extra careful to keep him out of danger.”

With that, there was a knock at the door. “Speak of the noodle man, and he shall appear,” Futaba said with a snicker. “Someone let him in?”

Makoto nodded and stepped forward, opening the door. She shuffled out of the way with wide eyes as Akagi Jin entered the café with two bags filled with what was most likely bowls of soba. “I brought food,” is all he said as he set the stuffed bags onto a table.

“Um… not that I’m complaining,” Makoto began, “but… why?”

“Well, you’ve all got your funky powers,” Akagi gestured to the group, “and I’ve got noodles. So I brought noodles.”

Eventually, those who wanted soba grabbed their bowls and started eating, while Mitsuru began her explanation. She explained her history with the Kirijo group and their studies of Cognitive Pscience, and with some shame she even admitted to what her family had once done while trying to artificially awaken personas within young children.

“Since then, I’ve made it my goal to try and heal the damages my family had once caused, but it seems the problems are far more widespread than I once thought.” She shook her head. “I once believed only the Kirijo group had access to the research and resources needed to conduct experiments on the nature of personas, but it appears that I was wrong. Shido Masayoshi in particular is one such man who was deeply involved with experiments that were conducted completely separately from the Kirijo family.”

Akira winced when he heard that name, and Ryuji let out an indignant cry. “Aw, hell no! Not that guy again! Seriously, he’s been in jail for years now, and we’re still cleaning up his messes?”

Mitsuru nodded. “Unfortunately, he was quite the prolific opportunist when it came to taking advantage of the other world. His followers conducted what I believe to be the most catastrophic of these experiments.” She set down her briefcase on the counter, snapping it open and pulling out two sheets of paper. “There were two waves of experiments, one around twelve years ago, and one around eight. Each round had twelve children, often orphans or runaways.”

Makoto’s gaze was downcast. “Hearing the details a second time doesn’t make it any easier…”

Ann fumed quietly. “I just can’t get over the fact they experimented on _kids!_ Like – ugh, experimenting on anyone is bad, but especially kids…”

“It gets worse than that, I’m afraid.” Mitsuru set down the papers on the table. Each sheet featured twelve photos of children, likely around twelve years old each. There were no names to label each image, simply their subject numbers. “Only around three or four survived the initial experiments at all, and of those… well, we once believed they all perished in one way or another, but it seems that one may still be alive. The sudden re-appearance of the Dark Hour may have some relation to this lone survivor, as it is believed they live in this area.”

Akira shuffled over and started looking at the papers, listening as Mitsuru continued. “The experiments the Kirijo group conducted could induce a persona awakening, yes, but it came with side-effects. Those with artificial personas were often sickly, and on top of that they struggled to control their powers. Shido’s experiments were more precise and streamlined, yet were far more brutal on the subjects. This is a cause for concern, as we have no idea what kind of powers this survivor may have…”

Mitsuru continued speaking, but Akira couldn’t hear her anymore. He numbly heard Ryuji call his name, but a dull ringing had filled his ears by now.

On the sheet for the more recent experiments, a familiar pair of maroon eyes stared back at him. Though he was much younger, Akira knew there was no mistaking what he saw, even if he wanted to deny it.

Labeled simply as ‘Subject #014’ was a young Akechi Goro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels good to be back! ;)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter if you're feeling bored enough: https://twitter.com/PrinceWinter15

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to leave comments telling me what you think! Comments are delicious and may be the only thing keeping me alive.


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